Hawks and Eagles

The Hawk is Hungry

The twists of shadows and warm gleam of the sun caressed your skin, glinting and glimmering across bleached mudbrick rooftops. The dry winds flittered around you, pulling at your dark clothes and carrying up the chorus of the bustling crowds below. You watched their movements as they flowed through the city, across bridges and down alleyways, gathering in the dense bazaars as peddlers bartered off their goods.

This was your city, each of its citizens beneath your protective wing. You watched, a hawk hungry for its next meal, perched on the highest point in the district. This evening you were less of a hunter, the unrest quieter than usual, making you somewhat complacent.

You sat down on the tower's protruding beam, the large bird of prey perched behind you having grown used to your presence. You leaned forward, a bent knee pressed to your chest, the other leg dangling casually. You twirled an iridescent sea shell between your fingers, the play of purples and green swimming together.

The eagle had brought it back to its nest, leaving it there for you in exchange for scraps of meat, an easy meal. Whether the raptor truly understood the system was beyond you. It certainly seemed clever enough for it. On rare occasions, the eagle even sought you out, eager to please so long as it led to more food.

But your eyes were no longer upon the city. You stared off passed the horizon towards the thin streak of dark blue sea, a large body of water that you had only heard of but had never gotten close enough to touch. It was just beyond the city, perhaps a day's travel, and every now and then with the right breeze you could smell the twinge of salt.

There was a ruckus somewhere to your right, guards shouting out orders and the citizens screaming as they fled, the strange shell was stuffed into the your pocket for a later time. The eagle gave a screech, it's eyes catching something intriguing as well. It dove off, gliding along the caressed fingers of the wind towards its next meal. You thought to follow the bird, to hunt after your own prey for the evening. But then you saw him, the one to cause the disturbance, running across rooftops with agile ease. He skidded to a stop, finding that a number of guards were crawling onto the rooftops in front of him and thus cutting off his escape.

You thought to assist the stranger, throwing over your hood and pulling up your scarf around your mouth. But his attire caused hesitation. His clothing was similar, reflecting your darker version. For his white hooded robe, you were draped in black. The bright contrast of a red sash gripping his waist, paled your gray one. You too wore leather belts, holstering innumerable throwing blades, a short sword at your back, a long sword at your hip, and various pouches upon your waist.

These were the robes of the Assassins, an order you knew only by the tales spun by your mentor and adopted-father. In fact, you had seen him wear such similar attire when he journeyed from home. This man fleeing the guards had to be one of those infamous "heroes". He moved with speed and efficiency, eliminating every guard that dared to assault him, and each of his skills eased him closer to freedom.

An archer worked his way across rooftops and rickety planks, positioning himself to take out his enemy. It was lucky for the Assassin that you noticed the archer's advances, giving you enough time to grab your bow from its resting place inside the open nook of the bell tower.

You stood tall on your perch, steadied your breathing, and drew back the string of your composite bow. The wind was in your favor and the distance to your target was easily in range. Your arrow flew fast and was well placed, killing the guard and keeping your presence hidden. Your lips tugged smuggly into a grin, all too pleased with the silent kill.

The whole ordeal was over within minutes, the last guard falling at his feet, and his hidden blade slinking back into its sheath. His eyes lifted to the place the archer had been, hesitating there, and you knew suddenly that you hadn't been as stealthy as you thought. The Assassin accurately scanned his surroundings, seeking out whoever it was that helped him. Before you could slip away into the bell tower, his eyes found you and locked firmly into place. He was no doubt assessing you as much as you were assessing him.