Lake Bismuth I don't know what to do without you

the night was silent and the air was warm; he coasted in the dark, wings blotting out starlight on occasion.

the gleam of a white knife - beak. a ruddy aura catching across his bony, red capped face.

he was a smudge of shadow across the water; then his figure grew, and grew, and the wind drew him around and to a flanking position of the earthbound figure.

the bird coasted high enough to be safe, but not so high as to be ignored. he was a blood hunter - and a hungry one.