The talons gripping Callum tighten, squeezing the breath from his lungs as he struggles in vain against the larger bird. He tries and fails to loose a battle cry, his thrashing weakening as he loses more blood and they gain more altitude. Gods, is this really it? After everything, is this the end? He's always hoped that he'd die at an old age, sleeping soundly in his bed - though he knew it would be more likely he'd meet his end violently. But to become prey to a larger bird? To be a meal to a predator who had taken him by surprise?
It's insulting.
But there is nothing he can do as his vision begins to blacken around the edges, as his lungs scream for air -
And then he's falling, tumbling through the air, no longer sure which way is sky and which is ground. He sucks in a breath, tries to catch his fall with his wings, but he's being buffeted this way and that by the thermals coming off the flames down below and by the speed of his fall. But he has to keep trying, has to make an effort. He can't give up, not when there is still a chance -
It's insulting.
But there is nothing he can do as his vision begins to blacken around the edges, as his lungs scream for air -
And then he's falling, tumbling through the air, no longer sure which way is sky and which is ground. He sucks in a breath, tries to catch his fall with his wings, but he's being buffeted this way and that by the thermals coming off the flames down below and by the speed of his fall. But he has to keep trying, has to make an effort. He can't give up, not when there is still a chance -
With quiet words I'll lead you in and out of the dark
