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.

Three chicks cried out at the approach of their father, each attempting to get fed first. The slow and weak of these three would surely perish because of their greedy siblings. The adult's mate sat on the other edge of the nest, which consisted of many branches and downy feathers held together with dried mud, watching intently as to make sure none of the young ones fell out as she added content to the nest. The father of the chicks held the meat above the three, taunting them for a moment, and then dropping it into their gluttonous bodies. They fought tooth and claw over the meager food, the victor sat on the others and swallowed the chunk of flesh whole, adding to its already noticeable girth. The other two cheeped loudly out of the unfairness, but got nothing more.

That was the struggle, even from the minute they hatched.

About a month later only two eaglets remained. One had died of starvation, because, being smaller then his brother and sister, was unable to push and shove to get his share. The pair sat at the end of the nest, gazing uponthe misty forest a long ways down, each seeming to dare the other closer to the edge. They only stopped abruptly when the male pulled them back. It was not their time to fly yet, but it would be soon. Already their flight feathers had started poking out of their downy wings as well as more firm ones jutting out of the epidermis covering the eaglet's tiny structures. They preened them regularly, stripping off the old feathers of their youth.

It was time.

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.