Hawksong

This site centers on two different kinds of shapeshifters: the avians and the serpiente. They have waged war for so long now the war is settling but the people of each clan still has sore spots for the opposite clan.
 
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 The Falcon

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Danica Shardae
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Posts : 26
Join date : 2008-03-01

PostSubject: The Falcon   Mon Mar 03, 2008 7:03 pm

High in a sapphire sky a peregrine falcon rests on pillows of warm air. The falcon’s black feathers ruffle in the wind as its sharp yellow eyes pierce the wild landscape below it, taking in every detail.

In the jungle below it, giant pythons hang sleepily off thick branches while all manner of jungle rodents scurry across the leaf littered jungle floor. Dark green vines hang down from trees as giant cats as dark as midnight canter gracefully through the shadows. Their padded feet do not make a sound and their sensitive and ears noses take in the smells and sounds of rotting leaves, dripping water and the squeaks of rats.

A brown ribbon of water bends its way through the jungle. Just under its surface large lizards lie waiting, only their noses and eyes breach the smooth surface. A small hopping mouse skitters across the sandy no-mans land between jungle and water and the yellow eyes lock onto it. The falcon adjusts its tail feathers by a fraction, tucks its wings back and speeds towards the ground like a bullet, easily reaching three hundred and twenty kilometres. Metres before it hits the ground, the winged predator opens its wings and comes to an almost complete stop. Putting its talons forward, it tears into the flesh of the rat and struggles to rise with the heavy weight of the dying creature in its claw. Reaching a safe height to start its journey back home, its yellow eyes spy a rival falcon hovering on the edges of its territory. As the powerful bird flies towards its nest, the last dregs of life drip out of the creature in its claws.

It soon reaches a sandstone cliff which is riddled with small caves. The falcon glides and lands with practised ease in a cave, which is about half way between the ground and the top of the cliff. It has a nest of twigs and feathers with four speckled dark red eggs. It lets go of its prey and hobbles awkwardly backwards, pulling its snack with its beak over to its nest. The falcon settles down on the eggs to keep them warm and rips its blue-grey beak into the still warm flesh of the dead hopping mouse. It tilts its head back and the strip of raw meat slides down its throat savouring the metallic taste of blood. It finishes its meal, closes its eyes and goes to sleep. Shortly after it tucks its head under an ebony feathered wing.
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