Fingot nodded in approval as he saw Mitakaw, at the head of a fast moving group of strong crebain, carving through the flocking crows headed for the north. The group was far from the largest, yet it was the most controlled and purposeful. This mission would serve his son well, mused the old bird. As for me...
He sighed and launched from his branch. He swooped low, gathering momentum, barely avoiding branches that snapped into his path. It took fewer wing beats with the speed he picked up to wend his way up into the flock and search for Akaaw. He was nowhere to be seen. Fingot moved higher, above the black fluttering morass. He was straining his wings at this altitude, but it helped to see the pattern.
The direct path of Mitakaw's squadron had created a wedge, with his son at the tip. He clacked his beak with anxiety and swooped towards him. Akaaw would never forgive such presumption. He had to reach his ambitious fledgling first.
[ December 16, 2002: Message edited by: Rimbaud ]
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