He laid quietly in wait, flicking his tail gently behind himself anxiously. He was awaiting quietly, anticipating one of those fuckers to finally come down alone. He wanted to fight them, wanted to attack them and kill one, but he wasn't stupid. He knew he wasn't going to be able to take on more than one of them. So he knew he would need to wait it out until he got one of them alone.

It took much longer than he would have liked, but finally he saw one by itself, having landed for a moment to take a rest without the flock. And that was the time for him to attack. He quickly pushed off of the sands and tried to take it out of the sky, but the sands shifted under his feet and his trajectory was off.

The Eyehook in question had glided down to investigate something or other it had seen on the canyon floor. When Moonsetter launched, its reaction was quick--maybe it wouldn't have been if the pounce had been on target, but the dragon-beast had missed. So the vulture--one with black and red feathers, and a short, fanned tail--leapt up and away, screeching in deafening indignation.

It shot upward, heading for the plateaus above, where the nests lay; Moonsetter would need to be quick if he were to snag it before it escaped.

...Or called for backup.

@Moonsetter

Shit. He missed.

He was determined to not let this thing leave. No, he was going to get it. Last thing he needed was to deal with more of them. One was enough. A deep growl escaped from his lips as he quickly righted himself, noticing it flying upwards and trying to escape, trying to call for back up. No. No. That couldn't happen.

He lunged himself upwards, wings flapping harsh, sending sand flying around them as he lunged for the creature, aiming to wrap his jaws around the creature's leg, trying to pull it down and wrap his body around it. He wanted to kill it, wanted to end it's screams. The adrenaline was exhilarating, a high that he chased, his maw snapping with excitement and want for blood.

The horrid screech was cut off before it could really start. A violent battering of wings turned into jerks and tremors as a back was broken, and hind legs spasmed more than scratched.

The lunge and snap ended the flight--and potential fight--quickly; rather than battling with enemies, Moonsetter was left with nothing but dying prey in his jaws.

@Moonsetter

Yes! Success. He had done it, he had taken down the little fucker without anymore showing up. He felt a sense of pride, his chest puffing out and his head high, feeling like the king of the world. He was doing great, and nothing could take him down from his high right now, not even the rest of those rickety flying bastards.

He snorted and picked up the quickly dying creature, shaking it for a moment to ensure its death before turning to leave, dragging it behind him. There was no way he was staying here any longer than needed. He didn't need to get swamped.

-exit-