The Hawk

Long ago, there was a hawk, a proud beast that soared high above the ground, never landing, always moving. The hawk only descended low down when something caught its attention. One day, when the hawk was very far from where it had started, it looked down through a part in the clouds, and saw a vast field of rolling hills. This terrain was new to the hawk, and it flew down, very close to the to ground. Normally, the hawk would have quickly ascended, but there was something about the field that kept it there.

After a while, the hawk reached the end of the field, and there, crouched in the tall grass was a hunter, it's sights set square on the hawk. The hunter aimed straight for the hawk's heart, but at the last moment, the hawk pulled up, and the hunters bullet only hit the plumage of it's tail.

The hawk ascended back above the clouds, the finding safety in the altitude, where no bullets could reach it and the ground was obscured by the thick clouds. But the hawk was not the same. some of its tail feathers were missing, or had moved. The hawk still continued to fly, but it's tail, its device for navigating in its flight had been permanently changed. And from that day, the hawk would always fly differently, not only because of its new tail, but because it would always expect the hunter at the end of the field.