SSS Rank Dragon Tamer: Unleashed
Chapter 56: Fat Chicken?

Chapter 56: Fat Chicken?

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The leaves barely rustled. The wind had stilled as if Emberwood forest itself held its breath. Zephyr remained motionless, every muscle on his body was alert. The tent flap stirred, a movement so faint it could have been the breath of the forest. Then came the softest thump, not the sound of something large, but the scampering of something small and curious.

Another noise. The squish of fabric under a padded foot. Fenna’s eyes widened. She leaned closer to Zephyr and whispered, "Something’s inside my tent."

Zephyr gave a slow nod and signaled with two fingers: wait.

A faint sniff-sniff echoed from within the bait tent. It was followed by a sharp scritch!—claws, likely, raking across the interior. Then the unmistakable sound of a blanket being dragged. A soft chirp or was it a warble? Nobody knows, it resonated next, strange and high-pitched like a bird trying to coo and cough at the same time.

Star tilted his head, watching intently. His tail flicked, but he didn’t make a sound.

The noises inside the tent grew more frantic—flap, flap, thud!—and then SPLOOSH! The water jug Fenna had placed intentionally tipped, spilling its contents. A blur darted past the tent’s edge, too fast to catch detail, but they all caught a glint of orange.

Fenna’s hand shot out to grab Zephyr’s sleeve. "There it is! Hurry up."

Zephyr nodded, adrenaline spiking. "Time to catch it."

They sprang from cover, Star launching beside them. They darted for the tent. But the clearing was already empty.

A few fluttering feathers of smoky orange and gold drifted where the food basket had been. Half eaten packets lay shredded in the dirt. Star raced in circles, nose to ground, trying to pick up a scent trail.

Zephyr scoured the edge of the clearing. "There... it left tracks!"

Fenna rushed to his side. Tiny claw prints as usual almost identical in size to Star’s—dotted the ground, weaving through leaves toward the treeline.

"It’s too fast," she whispered, frustrated. "It’s toying with us."

"Maybe." Zephyr crouched, inspecting the prints. "But now we know its game. It likes your scent, likes food, and doesn’t fear tents or traps."

Fenna puffed her cheeks. "Don’t forget, it also likes to ruin my dresses."

"Clearly a criminal of the highest order," Zephyr deadpanned.

She elbowed him, but grinned faintly. "So now what?"

"We lure it out again," he said. "But next time, we will use ourselves as bait. We will replicate the scene. Make it look real."

Fenna crossed her arms. "It better work otherwise i won’t talk to you. Because of you it ran away again."

Zephyr nodded frantically. "I swear on Star’s scales. This time we will definitely catch it."

Star made a low grumbling chirp as if deeply offended. Fenna exhaled, then smirked. "Fine. One last chance."

She returned to the bait tent and began rearranging the interior again with the practiced fury of a girl betrayed by fashion. She fluffed the ruined blanket, placed half of her remaining biscuit stash by the flap, and even used crushed herbs to freshen the scent.

Zephyr watched in admiration. "You’re serious."

"I will avenge my wardrobe," she said flatly, brushing dust from a replacement tunic.

Later that night, the three of them crouched again in the underbrush. The second trap was far more refined. Zephyr had laid thin string lines threaded with tiny bells like fruits. He spread around the clearing. Fenna had even charmed a few glimmer motes to hover above the tent, nothing too bright, just faint wisps of light to silhouette anything entering.

The moon hovered overhead like a silver coin. Time dragged. Minutes bled into hours. Fenna began fidgeting, mouthing silent curses at the silence. "Where is it?" she whispered.

Zephyr remained still. "It’ll come." And then, just past midnight a rustle happened.

TINK!

A bell jiggled. All three froze. Another bell. Then silence. Then scritch... scritch... PLOP.

Zephyr barely breathed. Something was at the tent again. Fenna’s eyes burned with vengeance. A feather drifted through the air. This time, glowing orange and edged in gold.

The sound of teeth nibbling food echoed. Then the flap opened. Just slightly. The shape that stepped into the moonlight was no ordinary beast. It was small. Round. Orange.

Shaped like an overstuffed chicken. With downy feathers puffed like a fireball, stubby legs, glowing red cheeks, and a tiny tail shaped like a flickering ember. Its beak was short, curved like a hawk’s, and it had one long feather rising from the top of its head, shaped like a candle’s dancing flame.

The beast paused. Looked around. Then it let out the most ridiculous sound Zephyr had ever heard:

"Brr-BOO!"

Fenna choked on a laugh. The beast froze, then scampered into the tent.

"NOW!" she hissed.

They burst forward. Zephyr dove through the tent flap while Fenna rounded the side. Star moved like lightning.

The fat orange bird let out a squeaky chirp, saw all three bearing down on it and it SPAT a tiny burst of fire!

Zephyr ducked just in time. The fire ignited at the top of the tent. Fenna rolled forward, arms open like a net, and grabbed— Air.

The beast had vanished. In a blink. "What the—?" She landed face first in her half empty food stash.

Zephyr pulled her up from the ground, scanning wildly. "It was here... where did it go!?"

Star sniffed, circled, then sneezed. The tent flap rustled again. Nothing. Only ash feathers floating to the ground like burnt paper.

Fenna sat up, rubbing her head. "That’s it. This is war."

Zephyr looked at her, panting. "You okay?"

"I’m fine," she snapped. "But that chicken is on my hit list." She said with an angry face. Her veins were visible on her forehead. Her hand became a fist of justice. "Fat chicken, you will face my wrath."

Zephyr dropped beside her. "We’re going to need more traps." They regrouped, rechecked their perimeter, and sat again near the coals of the campfire.