by Hydrargentium

Sparkling in the afternoon sun, the Eye of Aragon arced above the rushing traffic. Harrier swooped in low, reaching out her clawed hand to rescue it from certain doom. Mere inches above the roof of a passing bus, she plucked it out of the air, and pulled up sharply to the safety of the skies.

“Got it!” she yelled. “I got it! I nailed it! It’s safe wi-Oooff!”

Dropkick’s hooves caught her square between her wings. The crack of her ribs was audible even above the din of the passing cars, and the impact sent the Eye back up into the air, tracing an echo of its previous near-doom experience.

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