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The Falcon

A forest falcon clung to a branch atop a giant oak tree. Its eyes focused upon a group of tents circled together around a small campfire.
Night had fallen a fair while earlier, but one figure rested silently alongside a boulder: a key location to keep an eye on the entire camp.
He was tall, blonde hair with neon emerald eyes. As a bird of prey, the falcon saw all of this as if in the day. The man was one of a group of seven. He had the last shift, and seemed to be the least alert and cautions. Being this was the case, the falcon decided to stard with the lookout, then either wait until tomorrow night or to just get the job done and over with. It would decide based on how skilled a fighter this man was.
Falcon, as she was called, spread her small wings and glided down to land gracefully on top of the boulder. Startled, the man turned abruptly and drew his sword clumsily. The falcon tilted its head, and gave a low call of challenge; something the man was farmiliar with, but had only heard it from people. He backed up a bit, confused and puzzling over the strange bird. Then, all of a sudden, the falcon shot forward and changed.
A young woman then stood before the drawn sword and nervous man. Falcon was fair- skinned with auburn hair and dark emerald eyes. Her lips curved up on the sides to create one wicked, evil smile. She was clothed in layers, green being the primary color along with a mahogany and dark yellow. The way the clothes fitted her revealed her stomach and wrapped down her legs, showing much skin. Falcon had a way of enticing men, but she did not at all care the sexual part of life. She had vowed to let only one man love her or touch her lips. She had yet to find him though.
Falcon swiftly touched the hilt of ther dagger, then drew slowly and silently.
" Who are you?" The man inquired, seeming quite dazed and slow to react to anything.
" Doesn't matter," and she slit his throat and watched the blood drip down onto his black cotton clothes with inhumane pleasure. He landed on the soft grass with a quiet thump and a puddle developed beneath him. Being that the rush of the kill felt as pleasurable as it was, Falcon decided to move on the the remaining six.
They were all dead before sunrise.





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