The gull lifted her wing and winced: the size of an eye, the wound was red and weeping. Inhaling deeply, she blinked and stretched out a leg. It was early morning, the town still and quiet. Across the rooftops the sun was rising, and the ferris wheel glistened in the yolk-orange light. This is happening, she told herself. Closing her eyes, she attempted to relieve the tightness in her chest, to bring lightness to her breathing, but then a mob of cawing crows swooped down beside her.
