Santiago Lopo

Sample

The falcon abandoned the cliff and took flight at great speed, taking advantage of the Pyrenean wind. Propelled by icy gusts foretelling autumn, its nervous eyes captured images of what was going on down below, on the earth. First the mountains, then the valley, the fields, and finally the wall. As it approached the town, it beat its wings forcefully, accelerated and gained height.

It hovered near the clouds and watched the traffic of people in the streets. It was market day. The red awnings of the itinerant stalls swelled with air, sometimes becoming loose and momentarily revealing the products on offer: baskets with spices, Flemish cloths, pork chops, barrels of Navarrese and Aquitanian wine… The sun came out, and the falcon climbed even higher, startled by the glint of weapons and helmets being sold by veterans of the crusades. It understood the danger of that gleam, but it was hungry and needed to run the risk of approaching that large human gathering.

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