Despite her best attempts to keep steady and not raise her voice, the hawks were getting ever more agitated. The sand was a good quarter of the way up the cage. Space to fly was becoming precious and the hawks wanted to be where Lyta was. The higher they flew, the more her own wing beats interfered with their flight paths and what little thermals existed in the enclosed space.
The began throwing themselves at the mutant once more. Screeching their anger, claws out to rend flesh and feathers from the bones that held Lyta together.
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