The Story of Tiberius

Chapter 48

The moment he passed over Fifth Avenue into Central Park, Tiberius could feel a bad feeling flowing from his gizzard to the tips of his wings. "Guess Panama wasn't wrong about that," he murmured under his breath. But what it was he couldn't put a talon on it. Shaking it off, he continued onwards. It wasn't long until he saw the leafy top of the Great Oak in the northern section of Central Park. Before he could pass through the leaves and branches to land on the ground though, he felt the bad feeling creeping over him again. And he soon learned why. Landing on the green grass, the hawk froze stiff when he smelled blood.

The blood was coming from none other than Mumford. Just a few feet from the clearing that opened up in front of the Great Oak lay the peregrine falcon. The young bird's throat had been sliced open cleanly. His light yellow eyes that once sparkled with youth now gazed off into the distance blankly. They were already glazed over, glistening like frost on a tree. Blood, red as a rose petal, was gushing forth from his torn neck and coating the grass and his chest in crimson. Horrified and saddened by the sight, Tiberius carefully closed Mumford's eyes. Except for the wound that had obviously killed him, one would think the young falcon was asleep.

Examining Mumford's still warm body and the crime scene, Tiberius was able to gather some clues. Based on the other wounds on his shoulders and back, it appeared that the peregrine falcon had been snuck up on and pinned to the ground, where the killer eventually got him in the throat, delivering the killing blow. The claw marks didn't look like a cat. If anything, it appeared that he had been attacked by a bird of prey. And not just any bird of prey but a great horned owl. Tiberius didn't have to look too far when he saw the feather of the owl.

Putting the facts together, Tiberius was heading over to the Great Oak as fast as he could. He knew he wasn't too far off the murderer's trail based on how strong the scent was. Reaching the hollow's entrance, the hawk quietly slipped inside. Hiding amongst the shadows. he listened quietly as he heard two voices speaking to each other. Peering around one of the tall pointed stones that littered the bottom of the hollow, he watched.

"Striker, what happened? Where's Mumford?" Sleet's voice shook with worry.

"Dead I'm afraid. I luckily got out of the fight. But please, you must hide," Striker replied, sounding innocent and concerned.

"I can take care of myself-"

"Please, if the cats attack you, all is lost."

"And you're gonna take them on yourself?"

"Just hide in that hole."

Sighing heavily, Sleet didn't argue as she turned away and headed for the hole. At that same time, Striker had a sinister looking grin creeping along his face. The owl's talons, slick in red blood that was from Mumford, scraped across the ground. Letting out a low growl, he lunged forward. Her back facing the owl, Sleet was too slow to turn around and prepare herself for an attack. Luckily for her, Tiberius was much faster and he didn't waste one second as he dashed forward and tackled the great horned owl.

"Oh Tiberius, it's so good to see you. Quick, Sleet's gonna kill us all!" Striker cried, his eyes round. Hissing angrily, Tiberius only tightened his grip as he spat, "You're the one who is a murderer! It was you who was attacking the nests around here, wasn't it?!"

"You don't have the proof!"

"We will when the patrol gets back here! And I have all the proof I need right here!"

"Oh really?"

"You don't think I don't know the difference between a cat's claws and an owl's talons?! You killed Mumford!"

"And tried to kill me as well," Sleet added on, getting to her feet as she continued, "And in doing so have broken our Code. Striker, tomorrow you will be put on trial for your crimes. Pray for mercy from the Tribe of the Heavenly Stars tonight."

Laughing to himself, Striker retorted, "I think I'll have better luck with the Tribe of the Poisonous Savages."