I am soring through the sky like an eagle only I am not an eagle I am a falcon my wings spread out, out, out. I am free, free at last the wind flows through my wings giving me a sudden chill; the air goes cold. I have flown to the arctic so I believe. I hear something, looking up I see a vulture coming straight at me. The vulture screeches and claws my right wing and I being to spiral towards the ground. I believe I am falling to my death when I awaken; I am nestled with my mother and father just feet away. I know I am not old enough to actually fly but when I do I will be known as Freedom The Flying Falcon, because that is what I represent Freedom.
