Encounter At A Distance

Hixton was hang gliding but not for pleasure. His eyes, hunting the tree scape below for signs of habitation, happened on another pair.

They could almost be lights , but he knew they were reflecting, not emitting.

Their owner might have thought, (Could they?) that Hixton was a bird. He felt like a bird of prey up here. He recognised the thrill of fear that had been building up inside him, wondering if he himself was being hunted.

Yet when the eyes suddenly vanished he missed them, as the closest thing he had had to company since beginning the mission.