By G.R. Nanda
When he awoke, the sun was well on its way up the sky. The ball of yellow warmth loomed over him in a sky of light blue. The stolid white sheet of a sky seemed to have disappeared overnight. Only a few puffs of white clouds peppered the sky.
A gentle breeze washed through the rustling green leaves and over Father hawk. It was cool– comforting to his feathers.
Meanwhile, the heat of sunshine beat down. It was a gentle, comforting mix of weathers that complemented each other.
Father Hawk groaned and rolled over on his stomach. He was too comfortable. And too tired. He didn’t want to leave his bed of vegetation.
Maybe if the weather was poor, he would feel more inclined to get up and move to find a better place to be.
He felt washed up. All the drive and rigor of yesterday’s trek seemed sapped out of him.
Why was he here again?
That question was enough to make him dejected. He sighed and closed his eyes.
He felt so washed up.
“No, no, no, no,” he thought. “What did Huntsman say?” If he was too late, the flower would die and he wouldn’t be able to save his wife and child.
It would be over.
Father Hawk struggled to his claws, standing up and snarling at Coyote’s Rock which still loomed ahead of him through the grass.
“Aaaaaaaaaaarrhhhhhhh!” he screamed. “Damn you, damn you!” He looked up at the sky and spun around, searching for stars. But there were none in the daylight.
“Huntsman!”
The wind gently whistled and the rustling of the grass was melodious.
“Huntsman, where are you?”
Birds in the far off distance chirped.
He sighed and squeezed his eyes, shut tightly in frustration. He felt so alone.
“Venture forth towards the coyote’s rock, travel lightly, but gather your resources and look out for the beady-eyed eagle for she will guide you further.”
The Huntsman’s final words rang in his head. Beady-eyed eagle. He needed to get to a higher ground. And he’d seen higher ground close to the Coyote’s Rock when he had flown for little periods before.
Father Hawk ran to the edge of the clearing of low grasses, kicked up his legs and thrust his wings to the side.
He flapped furiously, moving higher and higher. The grasses became smaller beneath him and the world unfolded before him.
The grasslands stretched out before him, but far ahead were rolling hills, becoming larger and larger the farther they went. Father Hawk squinted and flapped as hard as he could to take as much advantage of his vantage point.
A thin river that he hadn’t noticed before wound its way into a gap between hills. Curling mists rose from the faint water, shrouding the rest of the hills farther down.
Rock outcroppings popped up down there, the closer the hills got to the Coyote’s dwelling. From there, large boulders appeared alongside eventual canyons and cliffs, grey and dark at first. However, the closer to the Coyote, the more rust-colored splotches appeared, which eventually enveloped the entire rock formations, joining the color of Coyote’s Rock.
An endless range of hills and rocky mountains stretched across the horizon, bordering Coyote’s Rock and its neighboring rock monoliths, standing tall above everything else. They stretched into the sky and were all shrouded by darkened fog.
Not only was it majestic, but it also gave Father Hawk hope. Here, he could find the beady-eyed eagle and the rest of the helpful animals promised by the Huntsman. Here, he could also find more of the promised resources.
Father Hawk’s beak opened and stretched, breaking into a wide grin. He couldn’t help himself. He could make it. All he had to do was keep showing himself the end goal– remind himself of what he was reaching for.
Out of the dark shrouds of Coyote’s Rock appeared the Coyote himself, revealed in a sliver of open air where he sauntered on all fours atop a rock ledge. His eyes looked like they were glinting and when it seemed like they met Father Hawk’s, his grin broke. He stopped flapping his wings and having stayed still in the air too long, he plummeted to the earth.
Shrieking all the way too.
G.R. Nanda 