The morning air in the canyon was crisp, and Kaya was standing near a basin of freshly boiled water, aggressively brushing her teeth with a frayed willow twig and some crushed mint. It wasn't a modern toothbrush by any stretch of the imagination, but it was keeping her modern hygiene standards somewhat intact.
Suddenly, a massive, terrifying shadow blotted out the morning sun.
Kaya barely had time to look up before a gigantic vulture—easily twice the size of any bird in Veer's flock—plummeted from the sky like a dark meteor. Its razor-sharp, steel-like talons were extended, aimed directly at her neck.
Kaya was completely, utterly frozen in fear. Her brain screamed at her to move, to dodge, to draw her knife, but her limbs were locked in place. All she could do was stare into the pure, unadulterated rage burning in the giant bird's eyes as death hurled toward her.
