|Surviving: From the Prospective of an Eagle
Author: NightWyvern PM
The truth of survival, and in most cases, the brutality. Written last year, single chapter.Rated: Fiction K - English - Drama/Spiritual - Words: 732 - Published: 04-15-06 - id: 2154032
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From the prospective of an eagle.
Silently and swiftly it flew, as unnoticed as a shadow in the night, as quite as a breath of wind. Shocking eyes scanned the terrain below, searching, seeking, but not finding. The bird dove, wings folded as one with its mass as the wind whistled shrilly through the creature's feathers. A snowy head could be seen as well as lethal ebon talons. Scaled feet shot out from under the bird as it zeroed in on its target: a diminutive mammal.
Shrieking a call of triumph, the eagle opened its wings and soared up, meanwhile grasping a lapine, the raptor's claws digging their way through its scraggly mud tinged pelage and intothe rabbit's flesh. The bird flapped violently to gain altitude, reaching a particular height above the coniferous forest below, it sailed northward on an updraft to an onyx colored rock plateau.
That was the struggle, even from the minute they hatched.
The parents of the young eagles prodded them to the end of the nest. They looked over uneasily; unlike when in their youth they had fantasies of flying. The eagles refused to go over. The mother screeched and shoved the female over the edge of the nest.
The bird plunged downward, the wind tore a buffeted the small body. Instinct taking over, the bird spread it's winds wide, spanning easily longer than three feet. The eaglet cried out in joy, shivering with the pure ecstasy of flight. She swooped and dove, rose and fell, rode the air currents and finally coming to a landing- safe if not that graceful.
Realizing he was next, the other braced himself. The shove was quick and it took its toll on the eagle. Spinning rapidly, the male plummeted downward, unable to break out of his twirling fall. He crashed through the tree branches, yielding feathers to their spidery hands. There was a sickening crack and an eerie echo, then silence. The mother stared downward, her mate looking over the female's shoulder, they saw, understood, but seemed unable to comprehend, unable to mentally grasp what had just happened.
They started screaming.
The last chick, the fortunate one departed not long after that, having excelled speedily through the arts of hunting. She flew off, but before she did so, the bird of prey scared a series of slits into the cliff edge, as if to say, 'I was here'.
After that, wailing a goodbye, she flew off in search of a mate, to raise her own brood. And thus the survival cycle begins anew.
The truth of survival, and in most cases, the brutality. Written last year, single chapter.
I don't think I'll add to this. It was a school assignment last year, please review.