The hawk training was a disaster from the very first moment.
Zekar stood in the open field outside the city, surrounded by mountains and sky, facing the largest bird he had ever seen. She was a female, nearly as tall as he was at the shoulder, with feathers black as obsidian and eyes the color of molten copper. Those eyes were fixed upon him now, unblinking and assessing.
He had been given basic instructions: mount, guide through simple maneuvers, establish dominance. The handlers had made it sound straightforward. Like breaking a horse, they had said. Show them who is in charge.
The hawk had other ideas.
The moment Zekar tried to guide her left, she went right. When he pressed his knees to signal descent, she climbed instead. When he attempted a gentle turn, she tucked her wings and dropped twenty feet straight down, leaving his stomach somewhere in the clouds. By the time she leveled out again, he was certain she had done it deliberately.
Just to make a point.
