The air is clean today. The sun is strong. Good thermals. I rise
rapidly on one, seek cruising altitude. Below the fields bake. I peer
down. Nothing just yet. My brother cruises nearby, in his quadrant.
Sometimes we cross paths and caper about a bit to break the day.
Movement- a jittery motion in the field. A young meat morsel scampers,
a prime target. I fold my wings and fall through the thermal, past the
cold pocket, towards the hot ground. Still the morsel is unaware, but
scampers closer to its hole nevertheless. Wary, but as yet I am
unseen. The sun is above but in front- no shadow falls near the
morsel. I drop my talons. The morsel looks up- I must adjust because
now it will dash for the hole. I extend my wings, slow my fall, the
heat from the ground is palpable, the morsel is almost to the hole, I
open talons, two feet above the ground I feel my swoop near its
culmination, its upside-down apex. The morsel reaches the rim, I reach
full extension, my talons close on air as the morsel dives in. Damn. I
begin the upslope, beat my wings and the heat rises beneath them and I
rise to seek the thermals again. I hope for less wary morsels. The
larger meat has avoided the wasteful metal beasts today in my area. I
feel my hunger grow, but the wind carries me all the same.
Chamber
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