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A smaller bird of a gentle kind folded his blackened wings against his body and unfurled them again in a graceful glide. The late sun reflected along the iridescent feathers of the bird's back, portraying a shimmering array of blue and green colors. A red stripe ran across its black eye like a marking before the swallow flew into battle. Its long tail feathers fanned outwards with a swift flick as if it were carrying its own banner, accompanied by its sad, melodic battle cry. Its feathers were ruffled against the enemy- the unforgiving, harsh breeze as it flew onwards toward its home in the gathered trees.