![]() I can see arms, and long, slender legs the colour of my winter feathers. Something terribly unnatural is happening. Instead of acute, pin point focus in my peripheral vision it takes an age to crane my neck around and focus. When I open my eyes, everything is blurry, and my head doesn’t move quickly enough. Only, I do not feel sated, or warm, or safe. ![]() I feel dulled, as when I roost, head heavy with satiety after gorging on a swift kill, head tucked into my plumage. My instincts tell me something is deeply wrong, even before my eyes open.
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