You look up to where the screech is coming from. It is a large bird. Its wings are spanned out, flapping through the rain and wind. You watch as the bird darts toward the ground near you. It quickly uses its powerful talons to lift the tiny branch that the baby bird was hiding under. The branch is tossed aside and the baby bird is quickly lifted.

You watch the large bird take the baby bird. It is not crying or screeching. It looks and sounds secure. It seems content with this happening. It looks safe. The large bird carries the baby bird away.

All of this happens so quickly, much to your delight and to the lifted weight from your shoulders. It happens so quickly, that you are not given even the slightest of moments to see, hear, and feel the coyote jump at your throat and lock its jaws.

You are taken aback.

You fall.

You feel rain falling into your nose and mouth as the beast stands to your side, its mouth clenched to your throat. You can still see the large bird flying overhead. It soars away from your sight. The baby bird is probably safe.

You choose to…

• …die.