Kyle Garrick “Gaz”

A flap of wings. A few colorful feathers landed smoothly on the frozen ground. A rabbit squeak. A crunch of a spine. Sharp claws dug into a fluffy white body and threw it into the air. Kyle deftly grabbed the carcass with his teeth, his fangs piercing the soft meat, letting out a few drops of blood. He grinned, pleased with his work. A fat rabbit, a few voles. Finally, the two of you will eat normally.

Gaz flew onto a thick oak branch to rest a little. His paws tightly gripped the bark, his bluish tail straightened out, helping him catch his balance. He shook his wings, his muscles relaxed pleasantly, and turned towards a small burnt village. In one of the blackened houses, once home to your family, you were sitting by a small fire.

Orange tongues of flame danced in front of your feet, giving at least a little of that precious warmth. Almost a week had passed since the fire that destroyed almost all the inhabitants, and your wounded wing still hurt. One of the beams fell on it: it singed the feathers, slightly broke the bone.

You threw a few twigs, the fire greedily began to gnaw them. Snow was slowly swirling outside the window, almost invisible against the black sky. The dilapidated house almost did not protect from the piercing wind, forcing you to wrap yourself in a torn jacket, fluff up all your feathers, hug yourself with your arms and wings.

The wood creaked as a familiar figure landed on the beam under the hole in the roof. The familiar wings of a kestrel flashed in the darkness and there was Kyle, eyes sparkling and a rabbit in his teeth, landing a little further from the fire.

"Luck is on my side today. I managed to catch a whole rabbit. And as usual, a vole."

Your brother said contentedly, putting the catch in front of you and sitting down behind you. His large, cold from the frost, arms wrapped around your body. He shook himself again, every feather on his body standing on end, and he wrapped you with his large fluffy wings, like a big blanket.