Wing against icy rocks, moss and bracken splintered her chest. Salt wind tugged at the downy feathers around her face. She pushed her chin to her chest, and slit her eyes.
Below the cliff, a blood red mini streaked its way over the snaking coast road. Yellow headlights flickered through the broken, hooked fingers of the winter-grey forest, dwarfed by the misted ocean.
Beady eyes snapped open, pupils shrinking to pinpricks. She stood, talons on flint, and leapt off the edge, sweeping over the deserted bay. She circled the mini until it stopped; its beams extinguished, her own eyes alight, she dived.