a silent film he'd watched a thousand times before
Marcus had just shifted his weight to step again when the voice slid through the attuned bond. It boomed close, heavy, and was unmistakably directed at him.
He jolted. His wings snapped half-open on reflex, feathers flaring wide as he threw his head up. He turned in a tight, awkward pivot on the ledge, talons scraping stone, scanning until he found the larger eagle overhead. Marcus felt the authority and threat in the way he circled him immedately.
Not hunting! he sent back quickly, the mental voice steadier than the ripple of nerves in his body. Just, uh, looking. The pause that followed was too long, too obviously constructed. He added, I’m not here to take anything.
Defensive, and he knew it sounded that way. He tucked his wings in with visible effort, forcing them still instead of mantling. The training sat in his bones even if the shape was different. His head dipped once in a gesture that was half respect, half uncertainty, but his heart hammered in his chest as the list of ways he could get out if needed ran through his mind.
My name is Marcus. The name went across the bond a touch awkwardly, like he wasn’t used to announcing himself this way. His gaze dropped briefly back to the sanctuary grounds, then flicked up again. He didn’t try to mirror the other eagle’s dominance display, and he wasn't sure he could do it convincingly anyway.
He jolted. His wings snapped half-open on reflex, feathers flaring wide as he threw his head up. He turned in a tight, awkward pivot on the ledge, talons scraping stone, scanning until he found the larger eagle overhead. Marcus felt the authority and threat in the way he circled him immedately.
Not hunting! he sent back quickly, the mental voice steadier than the ripple of nerves in his body. Just, uh, looking. The pause that followed was too long, too obviously constructed. He added, I’m not here to take anything.
Defensive, and he knew it sounded that way. He tucked his wings in with visible effort, forcing them still instead of mantling. The training sat in his bones even if the shape was different. His head dipped once in a gesture that was half respect, half uncertainty, but his heart hammered in his chest as the list of ways he could get out if needed ran through his mind.
My name is Marcus. The name went across the bond a touch awkwardly, like he wasn’t used to announcing himself this way. His gaze dropped briefly back to the sanctuary grounds, then flicked up again. He didn’t try to mirror the other eagle’s dominance display, and he wasn't sure he could do it convincingly anyway.
marcus olson
