Emmett and Jake, meanwhile, were crossing open ground, heading for the next woods--not yet close to any friends--when a mixed flock of crows and other medium-sized birds dived at them with unnatural aggressiveness.
Jake was ready with the shotgun, firing one barrel at a time for maximum kill. He brought down seven of the feathered attackers before he had to reload. Emmett whipped off his duster coat, whirled it above him at a speed the birds were unprepared to encounter, and swept four more of the creatures down to earth. As the remaining birds retreated to a higher altitude--not fast enough to save another six of them from perishing by Jake's next two shots--Emmett sprang down to beat the birds trapped under his coat to death with the butt of his spear before they could get away.
Before mounting again, Emmett selected the two most edible-looking of his victims to bring along, saying, "These won't have any pellets in 'em, and should serve us for a very late breakfast once we can kindle another fire. " He began plucking the carcasses as he rode.