"Run!"
That was everyone's first thought.
But their legs wouldn't move. Like fear had nailed their feet to the ground.
They could only stare up at the approaching bird, faces drained of color, waiting for death to drop out of the sky.
The giant bird closed in fast.
Then—
It didn't attack.
It swept right over their heads, a crushing gust flattening grass and kicking dust into their eyes, and kept going—straight into the mountain range in the distance.
Only after it vanished did everyone realize they'd been holding their breath.
A collective exhale shuddered through the crowd.
They'd just brushed past death. For real.
"What kind of mutant beast was that…?" Grayson said, still shaken, his voice hoarse.
"No idea." The people around him shook their heads, pale and sweaty.
Even Cyrus—who'd been ice-cold a moment ago—was visibly rattled. His face was still a little too white.
But once the bird disappeared from sight, the arrogance slid back onto him like a mask.
