HAWK AND RABBIT

< Killian Moutain Range

UTC+4 0818 PM >

Tenderly, the last sunlight of the day painted streaks of red and orange across slowly darkening purple clouds in the sky. A rabbit, out late, nibbled at some straws before hopping along the cooling grassy ground. Its fluffy fur gave perfect insulation to the freezing cold air. Mist formed as the breath left the tiny, dark nostrils of the furry animal. A sudden twitch disturbed its face, and with the pupils widening in alarm, it raised its head – just when giant talons dug deep into its flesh. Despite struggling with all its might, the rabbit's feet left the ground with another flap of enormous wings. The hawk lifted off effortlessly into the evening air. Strong mountain gusts tore at its wings as it carried its prey over the rocks and the forest roof, high up the mountain. Across the top, it spread its wings to their full length and with minimal maneuvering, majestically glid down towards the dark dot beneath. At first, it was no more than the size of a hut, but quickly, the dot grew at the quick descent, to a football field, then to a stadium, and then exceeded a palace. High rise towers along the walls surrounded several courtyards like a castle, prepared for battles since an ancient past long gone. Balconies wrapped around each of the imposing towers and the hawk circled down towards the highest one. Spotting its resting place, it dropped the dead rabbit onto the balcony before stretching out its bloody claws to clasp around the shoulders of a man staring out over the balcony in deep thought.

His get-up was traditional for this country, but not for the common folk. Silver and gold strands decorated the black cloak draped around the extravagant, loose black shirt. Long black hair followed the will of the wind, but his face remained clear of the nuisance. Even though the sunset scene unfolding in front of him was breathtaking, his expression was blank. Perhaps out of boredom, he glances over to his shoulder, inspecting the blood strains on the expensive and festive fabric.

"I knew something was missing," he mumbled in a deep voice.

"Master," a servant approached from behind, "the preparations are ready and all the guests have arrived." He kneeled and held up a long, wooden box engraved with a distinct pattern that resembled some sort of wings.

The man turned around and his long fingers slid across the fine engravings. Ever so slightly, the box trembled. Coldly, the man stared down at the servant to his feet. Because the servant was facing the ground, it was lucky, for the master did not notice how terrified his expression was. At least that was what he thought when the master opened the box and raised the long, thin sword inside it. With a swift pull, he slashed the sword out of its shaft.

Disturbed, the hawk took off, crying out with its voice before settling down on the dead rabbit.

"It's time to give our guests a warm welcome."