When the aircraft finally shuddered to a stop beside the lonely lakeside strip, survival felt like a miracle. Oxygen masks dangled, hands shook, and sobs of gratitude filled the cabin. But outside, the nightmare held its breath. The birds did not scatter. They thickened, a living wall of wings and eyes, surrounding the plane as if it were prey. No one could explain why the attack continued, even with the engines silent and the danger seemingly over.
In the cargo hold’s dim half-light, the answer waited in an unmarked crate. Dozens of rare eggs, stolen and smuggled, pulsed with faint life. In that instant, the chaos rewrote itself: not a mindless assault, but a rescue mission. Jason saw the day’s horror for what it was—a collision between human greed and a love so primal it would chase down a jet. He climbed back toward the cabin carrying not just evidence, but a quiet, humbling truth: the sky was never ours alone.
