The beak got within a hair of the scout's eye before something tore it off course. A blow caught the bird square in the side and flung the whole mass of it clear across the clearing.
It smashed through two trees before it hit the ground, screeching, its feathers smoking where the strike had landed.
The scout was still frozen with his hands half-raised, far too slow to have done anything about it himself. Loccy stood right in front of him, one arm still extended from the swing that had sent the bird flying.
Two wings of pale gold light had unfolded behind her back but it was what she now held in her other hand that pulled every eye in the clearing toward her.
A massive hammer hung easily from her grip, its head a single block bigger than her whole torso. The metal of it was threaded through with the same pale gold that burned in her wings.
