Hawks of Glenaerie — Ruth MacLeod

A Repetition of Horror and Nightmare

One of the hawk's swooped low, a dark oversized shadow against the pale sky as it beat its wings above Susan, making one whirling pass after another, coming nearer each time as if for more detailed inspection. When it came straight toward her, claws extended, beak open, wings flapping, she curved her arms protectively over her head and screamed at the top of her voice.

The creature flew away as her shrieks bounced among the crags, then became lost, muffled, on the sea of fog. She drew a shaky breath of relief and heard the sound of loose rocks rolling in a small landslide as someone came running down among the crags.

Susan stared up in terror…