Chapter 6

--Flying really is the coolest thing in the world, isn't it?-- said Maggie, euphorically.

--It sure is!-- I cried, finding myself a nice, hot thermal, and riding it the way up to the bellies of the clouds. Nothing a human could experience even comes close to flying like a raptor!

The four of us, having found something to eat, and clambering back to our hiding spot of the roof of Marks and Spencers, were now in birds-of-prey morph, like Sam had instructed. It was getting late, and the sun was beginning to set, but my raptor eye's were still laser-sharp. I could see not only the little cars so far below us, but also the people in the cars themselves. I glanced at the big, blue motorway sign, trying to remember where we were meant to be going. We were supposed to be following the motorway, several miles below us, but we were all too wrapped up in the experience of flying to be paying much attention to the task in hand.

--Guys, if we could try and veer a bit to the left…-- said Sam, trying desperately to get us back on track. --And if we could loose some altitude? These falcon eyes are good, but I can't tell which road is which from all the way up here.--

--Sure thing,-- I said, taking that as my cue to show off. I had been practising a certain move since we'd taken off, and I was dying to show everybody.

--Lets dive!-- I slipped into the falcon's mind, folded back my wings, and angled my beak towards the ground. I dove – a move made famous by the falcons, speeding towards the ground at over a hundred miles an hour. Not quite as fast a Perigrine, but still pretty amazing.

--Yaaaahhhhhhhhhh!-- I screamed to no'one and everyone. --Oh my Gaaahhhhd!--

What a rush! This was five-hundred percent, pure, unleashed adrenaline. I was shooting towards the ground like a bullet – nothing to stop me if I lost control, nothing to slow me down.

--Oh wow!-- shouted Maggie. --I want to try that!-- She swept back her wings and dove into oblivion – although, being the huge bulky eagle that she was, she couldn't do it quite as fast as I could.

--Ferdie? What the hell?-- spluttered Philip. --What are you doing!--

I opened my wings and slowed down, turning a sharp right and circling back upwards. Hobbies are able to perform some amazing aerial displays when trying the catch their food, and I was exploiting this ability to its limits.

--Sam said to descend, so I descended! Philip – have a go – it's unbelievable!--

--Again, I think I'll pass,-- muttered Philip in his sensible voice. –If you want to get yourself killed, you do that.—

I trained my falcon's eyes on his hawk form. Even though we were a couple of hundred meters away, I could still make out his individual, chocolate-brown feathers. It struck me that Philip had chosen a bird of prey morph that was very similar to his own personality. Or, should I say, his old personality, before he left the army. The buzzard was a large and magnificent bird, just like (and I forced myself to admit this,) Philip himself. However, the buzzard was also a very patient bird. From what I'd read on the little sign when we'd acquired the birds earlier in the afternoon (although, it seemed like a lifetime ago, now) buzzards could spend hours soaring the thermals, watching, waiting for a tiny, almost invisible clue that a mouse or rabbit was venturing out of it's nest. Then, it would wait for the precise moment, before diving down and catching the thing in it's sharp talons. This, I realised sadly, was just like how Philip had once been. Calm, collected, very, very patient. He would spend hours on whatever he was doing, making sure it was perfect, making sure there were no flaws in his plan, making sure nothing would go wrong. Now, however, the chap had changed. There was no doubt about that, considering what he'd been through. Now, Philip was impatient, restless. Impulsive – although not to the extent that I was. Unable to listen to others as much as he should. And, of course, unable to take command of a team.

--How long have we been in morph?-- asked Sam. --Anyone wanna go check?--

We'd been flying for a while now, a mile or so above the motorway. The conversation had long since worn thin, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I swooped downwards, spotting someone wearing a watch. My hobby eyes could easily make out the hands. It was just coming up to quarter to eight.

--Just over an hour,-- I said. It seemed like four.

--Good,-- said Samantha. --I think we're coming into Manchester now. This whole place is pretty urbanised, but I can make out signs of the city, like skyscrapers and stuff. Plus, I think I can see the airport. We should find somewhere to demorph. Philip, you still know which way we're meant to be going?--

--Yep,-- he replied, his thought-speak faint. He was flying further in front and a little lower than the rest of us. He slowed down to allow us to catch up, and we flew down in a rather dodgy looking group of raptors towards the nearest tall building.

--Premier Inn,-- I said, swooping towards a tall, white building and reading the sign. --Wish I could check in now and sleep. I'm knackered.--

--Sorry, Ferd,-- laughed Sam. --We're got a long way to go first! We'll sleep when we get to Wales.--

--Besides, Flawless, since when have you even gone to bed at eight? More like eight in the morning,-- Philip added. --You spend so much time partying at night, I'm surprised you even realised you're tired this early in the evening!--

I laughed. Again, Philip had point his finger right on the mark and knocked me off my throne. He soared downwards towards the roof of the hotel, handed perfectly, and started to demorph. Sam landed next, not quite as gracefully as Philip, then me. I too landed flawlessly. As perfect as a head-over-tail roll can be. Sam burst out laughing as flapped my wings and tried to stand up again. Maggie landed last, her huge silhouette of her eagle morph making my falcon's mind apprehensive. I started my demorph.

--Righty-ho,-- chirped Sam, once we were all fully human, standing around like prats in our morphing outfits. --Let's go goose,--.