As Focused As A Falcon

He was focused on the bird of prey that soared high above him, desperate to keep it in his sights. The treasure that hung from its claws, precious beyond measure, might be out of reach now, high above him, but that did not mean that it should stay that way. If he could just track the bird to where it roosted, or came to a glove...

There! High above and far ahead, the raptor circled, spiraling down to a landing. Despite their exhaustion, they put on a burst of speed, hoping to catch them. Deep down, they knew they were too late.

This time, they'd set a trap, patient and cunning, rather than exhausting themselves trying to chase a bird of prey to ground.

This time, surely it would work...

The bird was tearing savagely at the dead animal that they had baited the trap with, sharp claws shredding through flesh. Slowly, they crept up behind it, blanket at the ready.

A net would be too easy for a sharp beak and claws to render useless, but a padded lap blanket to wrap around wings and cushion talons... they hoped that would be a different story.

The bird was almost within their reach, and with it, the prize they craved. Just a few more steps, and finally, finally, they would have it within their grasp.

In the trees on the far side of the clearing, something moved, and the raptor's head turned to allow it to look. In the same motion, its other eye looked directly at the hunter, and the blanket they carried, standing far closer than any predator would accept without challenge.

They lunged, a desperate last grasp for the success that was rapidly slipping from their grasp. The falcon was faster, a blur of powerful wings beating about their head, while talons slashed and tore into any exposed skin.

By the time the screaming stopped, the falcon was gone again, and they trudged away to find a healer. The last thing they wanted was an infection; who knew where those talons had been.

The next time they saw the thrice-damned falcon, it was perched on a heavy, but finely tooled, leather glove, somewhat out-of-sync with the rest of the noble lady's fine clothing. Both of them stared the would-be hunter down, sharp eyes lingering on the talon-shaped scars. She scowled, ”So you’re the one whose been trying to read my mail!”

Denying it would be pointless. There had been highly-sought information in those letters, information that they needed but couldn't get. No doubt that had been exactly what the noble lady had in mind when she chose her messenger. "I couldn't get it. Pigeons are so much easier to intercept…”

The lady smirked, and they longed to wipe it off her face, if such an action wouldn't put them back within reach of the bird's talons. ”Why do you think I trained a falcon? You have to think ahead, if you want to succeed as a spy.”