Proceeding out of the local grocery store and across the parking lot, I happened to glance northward over the wooded horizon. Above the giant pine trees danced a hawk and a pair of black birds. In that low heaven they battled, and the smaller pair worked together, distracting and attacking the hawk. The hawk, for his part, rolled and faded, avoiding most of the blows. Yet it was not before a minute that the predator received blow upon blow. Soon he was rousted, and the black birds parted, one following the hawk, his wings beating rapidly to gain height, which was then spent to dive-bomb his enemy. The hawk for his part no longer avoided the attacks, and merely glided below the line of trees.
I thought to stay and watch, wondering if some more of this tale would unfold. It was not long after that the hawk arose, alone in the sky, sweeping and soaring above the road.
I wonder what happened beyond the horizon, and if the two black birds which flew by my head could have been the same I saw afar off.
(P.S. I felt a strange empathy for the hawk in this case, which may be a result of its breeding; the nothlit Tobias, who was stuck in the form of a red-tailed hawk, I always felt a kinship with.)