Soaring on graceful wings, Red Tail the hawk glided through the air
high above the forest. She watched the ground for movement, noticing the
scampering of mice and the hopping of rabbits. But these did not interest her. She only sought a certain species.
The red furred mouse, the most elusive of quarries. In
all her years of soaring the skies, only once had she caught a glimpse of red
fur and a black tail, disappearing into the fall foliage the second she laid
eyes upon it. That had been years ago. Now, red furred mice were treated as myth.
If anyone could obtain the honor of the last kill, the
eradication of a species, surely she would be the one to claim it, for of all
the hawks in the sky, she was the best, the most feared of all.
The green canvas beneath her stretched far into the
horizon, broken up by swaths of meadow. Pines dominated the deep forest, but
oaks clung to the outskirts.
Swooping into a low glide just
barely over the tips of the trees, Red Tail focused her attention on the meadow
slicing through the forest a short distance in front of her. That is where the
last living red furred mouse was rumored to live.
Gracefully, she soared in a circle above the meadow,
searching for specks of red in the green and brown foliage. There.
Red Tail dive-bombed the earth, tucking her wings close to
her body. Just before she collided with the ground, she spread her wings and
extended her talons, gripping soft flesh. The squealing rodent was carried high
into the air, above the pale clouds, above all it had ever known.
But was it the correct prey? There was only one way to
know. She opened her talons and let the mouse fall screaming to its demise.
With great satisfaction, she took note of its red fur. A living myth, executed
by her own talons! Full of pride, she adjusted her course and flew away, into
the setting sun.
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