Susan Nilsson/FlickR High up on the cliff ledge, she studied her evening meal. She’d dispatched it quickly enough, and now she’d begun to dismember it, tearing open the black and white furred skin from the throat all the way downwards. Fury drove her to rip the carcass apart into largish pieces as she remembered her chicks from the previous year, each taken by this very same animal from their ground-nest. Never underestimate the memory of a white-tailed eagle.
She waited, looking around to check she was alone, away from scavengers such as gulls and crows. Revenge was a cat best served cold.
She waited, looking around to check she was alone, away from scavengers such as gulls and crows. Revenge was a cat best served cold.
