"I think it's the swallows," called Han. "They're swooping in very close to us."
The men looked around them at anything that was flying. There were butterflies, dragonflies, mosquitoes and birds. A flock of swallows dove and flew about using their acrobatic flying skills to catch insects.
"Fuck," cursed Baer grabbing his wrist. "Yep, one of the little fuckers just sliced me on the wrist."
"Alright men, let's get out of here in an orderly fashion," roared their commander. "Use your shields to cover yourselves."
"They must be tubiàn," speculated Han. "Has anyone ever heard of them?"
"I read that they had altered some swooping birds," the Commander replied. "Some of them were given poison spurs and others were given hardened wing tips for cutting. Let's hope these are the wing tips, not the poison spurs," he said drily.