A few months as a mare gestating her husband's foal should be punishment enough for the cruel farmer's mistreatment, Clara chuckled to herself, switching the medallion dial to 'animal' mode with the twist of a talon. She willed the image of a young mare in the prime of fertility from her mind into the medallion, and it began to glow to indicate the next form was locked in.
All she had to do was get the medallion in contact with the farmer and let magic, and then nature, do its thing. Gotta be careful around that gun of his of course, but it'll be worth it! I love being a bird of prey, she thought as she leaped off the tree branch and slid silently into the sky, her wings not making a sound as the air swept smoothly over each feather.
She spied the farmer. He was clomping back to the farmhouse in his muddy overalls, back turned to her. This would be easy. She flapped higher, angled her body towards her target, and began to dive, aiming for the bald spot on the back of the farmer's head that glinted in the evening sun. Nearer and nearer. Fifty metres. Five metres. She prepared to open her talon to release the medallion payload...
At the last moment, the farmer turned, both barrels coming to bear on the bird, which screeched and turned sharply, angling away over the fields, trying to gain height in its panic, which just served to expose it even more, a brown speck silhouetted against the bright sky. He traced it casually...and....
BLAM
The bray of the damn workhorse split the air in the same instant the gun unloaded its payload, dozens of pellets shredding the right wing. He gave a satisfied harumph to himself as the now-flightless bird spiraled down towards the field, landing in the mud. Slinging the gun over a shoulder, he took his time trudging over to it. It wasn't going anywhere. It was face down in the mud, barely moving, twitching a little. Its right wing was mostly just stripped cartilage, a few feathers still clinging on.
The workhorse was going crazy as he pointed the second barrel downwards. It was champing at the bit, stamping its hooves. The noise of the gunshot must have spooked it, though strangely it was trying to get towards him, rather than away from the noise, but one wheel of the plow had become stuck and it was going nowhere for now. He ignored it. Perhaps it would need gelding later. Sure, that bitch from the farm might kick up a fuss, but as far as he was concerned it was his horse now.
"Hey, ain't you endangered," he muttered aloud to the eagle between his clod-encrusted boots.
BLAM
A cloud of feathers burst around him.
"Guess now you're really endangered," he chuckled to himself. Scraping a little of the dead thing of his boot, he turned to leave. Only at that moment he spotted something glinting within the shapeless, exploded burst of bloody feathers. Huh?
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