CHAPTER 2

The next two days weren't going swell.

It wasn't about saving lives or sabotaging the Yeerks. It was kinda on a personal level.

I am a hawk. A kid trapped in a hawk's body. Like I said before, I needed to hunt to eat. And that was sitting on a branch, waiting for a twitch of a grass stalk or a head pop up and swooping in quickly for the kill.

Remember I said to Cassie I'd be fine with this drought? Ok, I take it back. Food was getting a little scarce. It didn't help that I had competition. The other hawk had gotten my mice and two of the rabbit babies during his uninvited stay.

I should have done something when I felt his presence on the first day. Drive him out.

And yet I didn't do anything about it.

I should have. I mean, I have powers far greater than that other red-tail. I could be anything else, even become the red-tail's predator. But I didn't.

I could have confronted the other hawk. Square it out. But I didn't. I do nothing and go hungry.

The rival wasn't the only one I felt weird with. Even the mother rabbit with her surviving babies was giving me the willies.

No, hawks shouldn't be afraid of rabbits. That was dumb. Sure, rabbits were tougher than small prey. They have hind legs powerful enough to knock you out silly with a kick. That was one consideration I had.

But every time I spotted them, this anxiety crawled back to me. Like I needed to avoid them. Why? I've hunted many times before.

This wasn't the first time I'd had a similar experience too. It started a few weeks ago. I was getting weird flashes like waking dreams.

I would be closing in on my prey and suddenly, I was finding myself in the mind of that prey. Panicking. Feeling my small heart throb loudly. Wings and talons above me, diving in on me.

Then I was back. Back to myself. Tobias the hawk.

It sounds crazy but it's how I felt. What's more, ever since that I returned to my meadow, it's been getting worse. The feeling that this isn't my first time.

It was ridiculous. I was starving myself. This is my life, my meadow. I shouldn't be pushed over because I was terrified by prey bigger than mice. The meadow was running short of prey and a family of rabbits had to die so I could live. Stop being afraid, Tobias.

Now you get what I mean by names not telling you much? The name, "Tobias" used to mean wimp. That nice guy teachers liked about back at school and girls felt sorry for.

And this other hawk was seeing that old "Tobias" resurface. He was ready to make a move on me, take the advantage and shove me out from my home. I was failing as a hawk.

But it seemed like my blunders have alerted the mother rabbit back to station. One hawk makes a screw-up and she hurries to her babies. Then she spots the other hawk and give a good warning kick at him just as he dives.

In the end, neither of us were getting any kills that day.

I could just go get help from the others. Ask Rachel and the other Animorphs, my friends. But that was real pathetic. I didn't want to go begging for help with a situation I should be able to handle on my own.

So I tried again. Shoved those thoughts as far back as possible. I hadn't eaten the entire morning. I was desperate.

I couldn't really help but feel a bit impatient on my branch, in my tree. My stomach was demanding me to get food. Now. It's not like I could go to a store and grab an easy TV dinner like everyone would.

I took a deep breath and kept watch. Waited. Listened. I had to let the mind of a hawk take over for me. With my telescope eyes, I scanned the grass tightly for the tall tale signs of life. One of the babies.

It sounds harsh. I may be a hawk now but I know that people - humans - would be horrified by me eating a baby rabbit. They'd say logically, I should go for the adult female. Less inhumane.

But the thing is this meadow isn't some Disney film with talking animals. In fact, it's more like that one dark show I remembered seeing once. The one about laboratory mice. It was pretty deceiving for an old animated movie but it was also a close representation of my meadow.

The mother rabbit needed to survive and keep the babies alive. If one goes, the rest do too. She just had to live to breed again.

More babies for me to sink my talons and beak in. So that I could eat and live.

I waited. And waited. And I looked across the meadow and spotted him. The other hawk. He was also waiting too.

I wasn't like him. A pure hawk in every sense. I could easily take him down with morphing powers and be unmatched. An easy win.

(No,) I said to him. Or maybe it was to myself. And an animal like him wouldn't understand anything. (I'm not going to stoop that low. We'll do this the normal way. Hawk versus hawk. Not Tobias versus you.)

Not the wimp guy. The old me wouldn't kill my own food. The current me must dive down and rake the sharp talons into the neck, the brain. Stop its breathing. Its heart beating. Even if...I've already begun feeding on its tendons.

That's the true meaning behind the name, Tobias. This Tobias. This strange, unique creature.

Movement!

A break of the grass stalk. The baby got spooked by something, shrinking into the ground. Not by me. My opponent wasn't looking down from his perch either.

Good. Because this was my kill.

I opened my wings, caught the breeze and flowed low across the yellow grass and swaying wildflowers.

Tud-tud-tud went the tiny sounds of padded feet.

A flash of brown darted underneath me. There it was. My prey. And it hadn't noticed me. I had complete focus. I was ready.

Seconds. Just a few seconds.

I cut through the air with a flip of my tail and a sharp angle downwards. Now was the attack. The hunt. I spread out my wings as I dropped onto the baby rabbit, talons wide open and ready.

In a few seconds, my talons would close-

Then black, beady eyes stared back at me. Ghostly. Terrifying.

(Aaaaahhh!)

Suddenly, I was scared. Helpless! Frozen with terror! The sun was gone above me, engulfed by wings. I could feel giant razor talons creeping over me, like a god from Norse legend was coming after me.

I screamed. I lost my balance and headed for the ground. Hard. Beak first. Just like a plane crashing down.

I was a hawk again. But I was grounded and without prey.

I panicked, flopping madly around. I spotted the mother rushing over to me. Revenge. Protection over her baby.

Then I felt the shadow come back over me.

No! It really was a bigger bird!

(Help!)

The shadow darted past me. I heard a shriek - a small squeak. The mother stopped. One second. She bounced away to her two babies. The third one was gone.

She never saw the shadow appear. I didn't either. And it drifted back up to a branch.

That was my perch.

A third hawk. A third one had come to my meadow. Maybe that was why my opponent didn't jump on the attack - he spotted this newcomer in the sky.

But that was bad news for me. I had two opponents now. And this third one was getting too cozy at my tree!

I wanted to tell him to leave. Shout out in thought-speak and spook him off.

But I didn't.

Instead, I was in a staring contest with him.

From the looks of it, this hawk looked older. I could tell. I've seen older ones before. His whites were more splotched, spreading out as his other colors were dimmer. Or maybe because he had an old look on him. Experienced. Better than my other rival. Better than me.

No, that was stupid. This is my terrority. And old hawks like him, they were easy to scare off. Show them who's boss and they'd quickly flee. Because they know they don't stay a chance against a hawk like me.

It's the healthy ones that were dangerous.

He then looked away, snapping me out of our contest. Down to the prey in his talon.

I was insulted. He really was going to eat on my perch. My perch.

Then suddenly, he dropped the dead baby.

What? That was a deliberate drop. He didn't accidentally let go of it. And just like that, he soared off. Off my perch and off to the sky.

It was like a joke. Trying to show me off what this old bird could do. It was like salt pressed hard on my wound.

I was angry. Frustrated.

Fine. Be that way, you stupid, senile hawk.

I left my meadow.