Flight School: Prey

Scavenger

Who knows?

Maybe they're just too lazy to kill you.

Unless you're worth it, of course.

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Io stepped back; dead leaves crunching under his feet in a hollow sound as if he had crushed the little bit of life left inside their dried veins.

Eyes wide; lips pale.

He had touched her arm—his fingertips brushing the surface of her skin before the cold bit into his flesh harsher than reality itself.

So cold.

Pipa was freezing.

And yet, there was the sun in her smile and light in her hair—brighter than the one up in the sky. For now, to Io, it seemed quite dark indeed.

He fell back, losing his balance for a moment as his mind knew not where to place his heart.

Luka caught the small of his back, steadying him.

It was a strange sight for the golden eagle himself. For he, too, had never seen this side of the games.

Perhaps they liked to keep it quiet, he thought at that point of time in slight indifference.

He turned the sparrow towards himself.

Io's fragile wings were tearing apart in the slowest manner—first, stripped bare of its feathers. Then, everything else; flesh and bone reduced to nothing.

He couldn't bring himself to look at Luka.

And strangely, he felt nothing else but a dull loss of sensation.

Numbness; that reminded him of complete darkness.

He stilled in the eagle's arms, swaying a little—as his world did so very much, without a friend.

Io began to wonder how he managed to get through a day without Pipa beside him; and suddenly he was quite glad to have met the eagle.

He couldn't quite put his finger on how little, or how much he should be caring for a predator. But at this point of time nothing seemed to matter to him; nothing except—

The predator tensed; eyes focused in a single direction, on guard.

Io's gaze snapped towards Pipa's body, mind going first to his friend's safety—as ironic as it might have been.

Luka seemed to be listening for something, although the sparrow wasn't entirely sure what.

He looked towards the tree that his friend was lying against, the bird in his chest beating its wings slightly faster than before—begging for an escape.

The cage remained locked.