Soaring

Flying through the sky. The fastest way to travel, until you throw up. Ally has always found this, but she has loved birds, especially big ones. Although, her family has a big secret, that no one has bothered to tell her before.

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1. Me

I allowed the bird to come down off the Scottish mountain of its own accord, and it came flapping its wings as much as the moon sings pop. The beady eyes fixed in the  deep potholes of the smooth skull coated in and oily layer of coal black feathers burnt up the biscuit, a whole metre from my feet. He wanted it. Bad. Who knows how long he has eaten in. Or maybe he is just hungry. Anyway, I watched him, gliding, flapping. My parents say I'm stupid, for wanting to do this. for wanting to see these beautiful creatures swoop and glide and....

Soar.

My favourite word. Ever. It means climb. It means fly. It means acheivement.

It means sucess.

I looked down at my watch, remembering Charlotte's stern warning about being home early for supper. Yesterday I was an hour and a half late. They were on the verge of calling Mountain rescue. I balanced dangerously on the edge, while retreiving my backpack. i kicked the biscuit of the edge, knowing that the bird will more likely get there. I ran along the mountain tops, inbetween the fields on grazing sheep. Over the cobbled pavments of our little Scottish village. And there. On our hill. Was our castle.

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