Firefly Glen [M] stop, don't save yourself

Death.

Now, the eagle became a harbinger of it. Ever present, he saw their blood spill one by one. On and on he swept in a vague, slow circle, round and round, watching with apathy as the beast tore them each to bits. The ravens within the trees crowed. At least one was already moving to swoop in on the dead. So quickly did their kind turn on their fellow beasts. But the birds knew that all creatures were only flesh once dead. Though the wolves were of great use in life, they ceased to have purpose in death beyond the earthly one of fuel.
Waste not.

The warrior woman who had travelled with him to face the demon at last showed herself. With fury she struck. And with her strike, the eagle was awakened from his passivity in the skies.

With a glint, his sharp eyes turned. Marking the target was easy, for the wound glowed red and his eyes were keen. Silently he swooped, riding the river of wind in his descent. The sharpness of his body pierced the air. The only warning was the whirring sound of the wind against his dappled feathers.

He aimed to strike the open face of the bear, for it was the highest from ground.