Feathers, Fur And A Bullet

• Simone Varney, Grade 7, Albert Park College
• Short Story
• 2011

Excellence Award in the 'Step Write Up 2011' competition

The night had been long, and now wore thin as daybreak approached. The hawk's gaze swept over his ragged and wild domain from his cliff top perch, and he felt his senses sharpen and tune in with the feint morning light.
The hawk was old; it had lived through stormy nights, and many scorching days. In all it's time, it had learnt a thing or two about hunting- though, that was not to say that age hadn't withered him, he was not the young and strong hawk he used to be.
Regardless, he took flight with a sharp beat of his wings, and sailed across the morning sky. After some time, a small field started to stretch out below him, to which he angled his wings down and sharpened his eyes. Fields were useful hunting grounds; they were open and clear, with close to no places to hide- though even so, they were often overflowing with rabbits and other rodents as such. There was no better place for a certain catch.
A small flicker of movement, and flash of golden fur. It may not have looked like much to the naked eye, but it was the sign the hawk had been waiting for- without hesitation, he dived at full force down to the earth, the prey directly below him. With one eye, the hawk studied his soon to be catch. It was a large, dirty rabbit, roughly the half the size of the hawk himself- it would make a fine meal. His talons stretched forwards, and extended into a deadly grip. Feet first, he plummeted towards the ground- Closer, closer... with a well aimed blow; he grasped the rabbit firmly and yanked it from the ground, pulling it up to the sky with him.
After a short while flying, his cliff perch came into focus, and the hawk felt the fatigue kick in. After all, he had not eaten for two whole weeks- winter had stolen the prey, and left him to fall hungry. Now, however, spring was returning the forest landscape to what it should be- lively, and overflowing with healthy prey.
The rabbit all this time had been squirming in the hawks grasp, letting out high pitched squeaks and wriggling about as much as possible. The hawk let out a fierce cry, and the rabbit stopped squirming, though it still squealed every now and then.
After a flight that seemed to drain him of every scrap of energy he had left, the hawk reached his nest, and landed gracefully- just as a gunshot rang out, a bullet just barely skimming his tail feathers. The hawk's head swivelled around, the break the rabbit needed. As the hawk's grip loosened slightly, the rabbit pulled free and sprinted out of the hawk’s nest, to cover. The hawk cared not, though, as he spied the hunter far off below him. As fast as a flash of lightning, he went airborne and flew like a rocket out of the sky, evading the rain of bullets that circled around him, until he had reached safety some way off.