The Thompson Gunner
04-10-2013, 10:22 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-10-2013, 10:22 PM by Ardent.)
The hawk made lazy circles in the bright, azure sky. Sun gleamed fire across its back each time the creature dipped low. Golden light crossed its feathers, displaying the animal's wide array of oranges and browns. But she was not built for beauty. Brilliant yellow eyes peered out from beneath high peaked brows. The bird was as hungry as any other predator, eager to find prey in the grasses of Seracia. A field mouse had caught her ever-watchful eyes. The flash of light brown might have been over-looked by other hunters. So brief was it that even her own chicks may have not seen it. But this hawk was older than most other raptors that flew on these winds. She had taken many a life, and through her delicate movements, it was clear how she had lived so long. Wings dipped gently, bringing her down slightly. The mouse had noticed something, had started to move away and search for shelter. Wings quickly folded inwards. Ground sprinted towards the bird as she dropped. Wind raced across her body, but scarcely a sound was made. Her prey could not move fast enough. Icarus watched silently from his resting place on the earth. Flaming eyes watched the raptor's descent, and its well-earned victory. It landed easily, tufts of fur gripped tightly between its steely talons. Watch your surroundings, there are lessons all around you if you look. They were words told to him a lifetime ago. And yet, the mercenary managed to make time to learn from his surroundings. The hawk that struck swiftly. The lion that aimed for maiming blows and finally a strike to the jugular. He had watched for five years the theatre that consumed the world around him. It was both entertainment and education. Icarus had learned to incorporate it into his own life. Each job a new way to develop what he had built with years of observation. A shifting breeze brought the faint smell of salt water pouring across his steely face. It tossed and carved waves through the grasses of the fertile land. The man had followed the river, interested in seeing what lay upon its delta. Fertility meant prey, and where there was prey, a pack was sure to follow. The silver knight had strode into the heavily scented borders without concern. Where a pack lay, there was politics. And where there was politics, a job would surely follow. Icarus found a quiet resting place in the grasses, allowing the sun to warm his body. He would wait here until he was greeted. The borders betrayed a land that was heavily traversed and he doubted that a large beast like himself would get through without notice. |