Somewhere high above, there lies a shadow upon the wind. The bird feels it in the brittle hollows of her bones, in the faint chill that sweeps across her tail-feathers, and in the ancient, prickling certainty that something is watching with malign intent. She has not seen it, she cannot be sure of it, but still she knows that it is there.
Her small, dark eyes twitch at erratic intervals, sweeping the surrounding skies. A slight change in the sun’s light, or a faint blur of movement off in the distance; these might be the only warnings she receives before clawed death comes hurtling at her out of the blue. A predator’s eyes are better than hers, sharper. They’ll have seen her long before she ever sees them.
She flies onward, time inching forward moment by straining moment. A cold breeze cuts across her path, and she turns to greet it, riding the cool air and taking its speed for herself. Gravity is ever-present, its greedy pull faintly weighing on her even as she soars, but her wings are firm and wide, her flight muscles full of strength. The earth has long since lost its power over her.
So she does not fear the fall. She knows that true danger lies overhead, in the fleeting black W-shape now glimpsed at the corner of her vision. Her wings begin to beat with all their strength, her heart thundering with fear; she has less than a second to move before it is upon her.
***
Sometime long ago, she had crawled up onto the edge of her nest, staring down at the mossy expanse stretching far away below.
Gravity waited there, jaws spread wide and waiting. One wrong step, and its tongue would snap out and wrap around her, drag her from her perch and dash her fragile body against the hard, flat earth. The young bird’s wings ruffled nervously, her head shrinking back into its mane of downy feathers. This did not seem like a good place to be. Better to retreat, to squeeze herself back into the center of the nest with her siblings and wait for her parents to return with food.
Yet something, an inexorable force at the back of her mind, kept calling her here. That great open space, the air on every side, whispered in her head with a temptation as irresistible as hunger itself. Pushing against her wariness and self-preservation, she stepped a little closer to the edge, wings slowly unfolding and stretching out wide to either side of her. She flapped them, just a little. It was a good feeling.
Her mother alighted on a nearby branch and tilted her head to one side, cooing encouragement at her daughter’s progress.
And for just a moment, the young bird chose to look back, wondering if her parent had brought a meal to reward her bravery. Just a moment, but it was enough: her balance faltered, her feet lost their grip, and she tipped forwards off the nest and into the empty air.
Panic clenched her like a vise. Her wings fluttered desperately, churning up winds all around her and turning a gentle fall into a wild tumble, spinning her every which way—
To no avail. Gravity’s jaws snapped shut around her, and she crashed to the ground.
***
Somewhere high above, a shadow strikes in the space of an eyeblink. A monster, a thunderbolt, a black blur moving faster than she can see, open talons punching through the sky just inches away from her wingtip. She is sent flying, tumbling, cast aside by the wake of something much larger and faster than she.
The bird is no longer a novice, however. Her wings move with a deft and easy power now, overwhelming the windy currents around her and quickly reorienting into a stable flight.
She can see the shadow below her, already leveling out of its barely-missed dive and climbing fast in pursuit. A young grey falcon, sleek and swift and strong. It closes in with every passing breath, the long strokes of its wings seeming effortless in comparison with her own desperate flight.
She flies on nonetheless, her long adult feathers giving her a lift and velocity she could only have dreamed of in her youth. Her heart is a mad rhythm of fear, her muscles burning bright with the force of her exertions, and yet it’s still not enough, not even close. The space between them narrows, gleaming talons drawing ever nearer to their prize, and she has no weapon with which to defend herself, no hope left but for one final reckless maneuver.
She pulls her wings in tight against her body, and lets gravity snatch her away.
***
Sometime long ago, she had struggled upright, shrugging off specks of dirt and leaves to look out all around her. Somehow, in spite of everything, she was alive. A little bruised, a little dazed, but not hurt so badly that she couldn’t move around. Lifting her head, she beheld the world from a new perspective: the bark-laden pillars of creation now stretched upward rather than down, and the floor around her seemed to extend on and on into an unseen distance. She could walk as far as she wanted, she now realized, and never have to worry about falling again.
But walking had never been what enticed her so.
Her old nest hung far overhead, so tiny from here. On an overlooking branch, her mother chirped appreciatively down at her. She took a few steps, gathering courage, and then unfolded her wings once more.
A hop, a flutter, and a short glide that soon came to a sudden and ungainly halt. This time, however, there was barely any distance to fall, and gravity brought her down with a calm and gentle embrace. She tried again, flapping hard and fast without quite lifting off, testing the power and limits of her wings.
And then she leaped up off the ground, and did not come down.
It would only be a few seconds before she landed again, still weak and uncertain in her own ability. For that tiny sliver of time, however, the air belonged to her. She could still feel the earth’s pull, tugging away at her, but now it was no more than a simple constant, to be obeyed only at her own pleasure. She swam into the sky, up and up toward the glimpses of blue peeking through the canopy above, and understood then in her tiny brain that an infinity beyond all imagining lay open and waiting before her.
***
There is no room for error, no path she can take that will allow her to escape. The open sky closes around her, cold laws of physics binding and sealing her fate.
She dives straight down, plunging fast as the wind itself in a final moment of defiant grace. The sky is hers, the fall is hers, her wings and weight and streamlined feathers bending the air in perfect synchrony to carry her anywhere and everywhere in the world.
The shadow follows, stronger and faster and heavier. Its talons close around her like a cage, and with a quiet snap and crack she is reduced to a small and ugly thing, feathers sticking out at ungainly angles from a mass of broken flesh and bone. Her mind fades slowly into cold and darkness, her last thoughts of infinity ticking down to a simple, empty zero.
The falcon spreads its wings, levels out, and glides away into the open blue.
-end-
Loksfjoer is a Contest Moderator.
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