Leo's eyes danced over the target, looking for a decent point to stab on this overgrown bird. His dagger's now slowly rotating in his hand till they were upside down. Once he felt he was close enough, he quickly hurled forward, planting one foot on the back of the cockatrice startling it, and even provoking a squawk. However the sound was now short lived. A crunching sound filled the air as Leo's left dagger drove it's way home into the cockatrice's spinal column. Once it was severed the bird's beak opened wide, and it twitched, making a gargled guttural sound once it was paralyzed. The feline left the dagger in place while he continued it's way up the bird, leaping off the same foot that he planted on it, and pulling the other one inward to pin it's neck down once he dropped on top, his right dagger raised high prepared for a downward strike through the back of it's skull.
However, upon the ascent, Leo noticed a glint on the ground, and then several large round containers with flies buzzing around. Well, to say the least the source of the smell was found. The containers were tins designed for pies, holding bits of rotten meat as lures for game. And just under one of them, Leo noticed metallic teeth. And it dawned upon him as his leg made contact with it's intended goal that under some of these pie tins that were haphazardly scattered about were bear traps. His expression turned into an epiphany of horror after his dagger missed it's proper mark from the lack of focus. “SHIIIIIiiiiIIIIIIIIIIIiiiiIIIIT” rang through the air in a harmonic tone. The tip struck down on top of the skull, and slid down the side after both he and the cockatrice's head had hit the ground.
And he hit the ground hard, rolling forward, and tumbling over a pile of rotting meat and tins. Sending some tins flying into the air and setting off bear-traps. Leo was panic stricken, thrashing around heavily as he tries to pull himself away from any possible traps, but only making louder noises. Once he was on his feet, the cat quickly leaps into the air, grabbing onto a low hanging branch and proceeded to climb the tree with the fur of his tail bristling. And if matter's weren't worse, a loud hiss could be heard as several more cockatrice's came in to investigate the racket. Sure enough, they found the aftermath of what could have been the deadliest trap to any backstabbing individual. Crushed pietins on the ground, pie tins crushed in metalic jaws, and of course a paralyzed and slowly dying cockatrice on the ground, who can only manage a twitch periodically.