A man stands out on the sea, the vessel between his feet and the deep blue bobbing him gently up and down. He likes his privacy. He likes to get away from the other hunters and a public life where all eyes are constantly on him. He is captured by the stillness of the ocean and the way it's glass like surface reflects his perfectly chiselled features back into his eyes. Suddenly a piercing shriek, first whining and distant, then growing in volume and vehemence until the hunter's gaze is torn from the sea to the sky. A trail of what seems to be floating little bits of white light flutter behind a plunging body. Narcissus barely has time to realise that this is the source of the peace shattering noise before the figure violently hits the water, a couple hundred metres away. The ripples fan out until they rock the man's boat. The man himself is stunned, caught between irritation and curiosity.
For an awful moment his flawless reflection shimmered and was gone, replaced by a cluster of feathers making their way delicately to the surface. His heart caught and he could not see himself, he whom he relied on for life and love and happiness. He looked around him lost, and, for the first time in forever was torn away from his sublime self and saw that there was beauty all around him. And yet this beauty was not him and it existed without him. It was like heartbreak, and yet the feathers still floated up and he could not see.