Chapter Text
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When he was a child, Escher found a wounded falcon that had fallen into a trap. It squealed and flapped its wings, not letting the boy get close. It was just a bird. Not smart enough to get out of the trap on its own, not smart enough to save its strength. It did not understand the boy's intentions. Escher spent most of that day trying to get close to the falcon and help it.
In the end, it was not a test of skill or strength, but of will. Escher thought he had won when he finally managed to throw his coat over the bird as soon as it had lost the strength to fight. He untangled it from the net and took it home, exhausted. He hid it in the shed and promised to visit the next day.
It was then that he realized the falcon had tricked him.
Life was not a fairy tale. The bird was just a bird. It felt no gratitude because it did not understand what man had done for it. It was an instinct. A desire for freedom. As soon as it felt the wind blowing into the ruined shed through the open door, it spread its wings, squealed menacingly, and took to the air. With its talons and beak, it attacked the surprised boy, fighting for its freedom.
The falcon escaped and soared toward the dawn.
Escher did not understand it for a long time. During his lifetime and long after his death.