From the eyrie, it can see cities. One big, some small, it doesn’t really understand how it knows what a city is. There are trees, tops of green and brown and gold, filled with opportunities and hidden shadows. There are odd squares and rectangles, higher and lower, masking what lies beneath, though for all the eagle knows, it could be ground. The damned mirrors, where even from this far off distance, it thinks it can see its soul.
Blinks are slow, the sun filtering hot through clouds. But the eyes swirl in every direction, catching movement with interest, hoping for prey. Those eyes take up so much space in its head, a sense of a world of bright colors. Behind them lies a small mind, but with such a large view, nothing is really missed.
It blinks again, down, rest, up. Down, rest, up. Head still, the eagle keeps watch on the stream of movement to the right. Cars roll past, one after the other, connecting cities, connecting people, connecting this view. A tiny nugget of idea passes and in the next blink, the eagle has moved.
Taking off into the sky, wings wide, beating the air out of its way, it turns towards the line of cars, something like curiosity sparking inside the eagle. Eyes roll over and back, there is no question formed, just a sense that things are not in the right place. The eagle veers left, swooping around over the big city, overloaded by the movements of people and things – and the smells, the heat that rises, before reaching the cool air around its nest.
Slow blink. Big city gone. Slow blink. City back. Slow blink. Big city gone. Slow blink. Big city gone.
There is a loud crack and cacophony, as the roads end and in place of the big city, curiously formed land. An eagle’s view, fields of tall grasses with easy prey, wandering without realizing they are being watched. People, difficult prey, heads in hands at the edges of the field, the cars emptying as everyone looks for home.
Slow blink. The nugget of wonder behind its eyes has dissipated, the eyes keeping watch on the world.
Worlds 