The Jackdaw

The jackdaw paced through the grass, keeping an eye on the strangers and the bright and flashing sticks they held. There was something mesmerizing in the way the steel glinted in the dying light. Then, one of the two men lunged, and the swords rang. The jackdaw, startled, flew high into the peachy clouds above, but returned, settling down on a low branch near the scene. Below, the men danced and their swords gleamed.

Then one fell, the air filled with the tangy tint of blood, and the other walked away, leaving a trail of bent grass in the long un-mowed field, the new angle lending these blades a golden gleam amid the dark, still standing stalks of green. The worried bird watched him go, his ever shifting head scanning, searching for any danger.

When he was sure it was quite safe, the jackdaw leapt from the branch and swooped down upon the dead man. His beak was smeared with the red and flowing blood before his wings folded in back in on his sides. The jackdaw feasted in the waning light.