Earthly Angels

    A large, golden plain lies beneath me.  Homesteads and green fields dot its surface.  A dirt road runs from east to west across it.  A small town, the only one visible from my extreme height, is built along the road.
    Gliding downward silently, I land on the roof of one of the buildings in town.  No one on the road below notices my arrival.  I stand there, wings outstretched, watching the people walking on the road below and the loud, black soldiers on the building across the road from me.
    I slowly fold my regal wings becoming inconspicuous.  Now I draw even less attention to myself, especially from from the ugly, dark soldiers.  One of them looks my direction and spots me in spite of my efforts.  He then alerts his platoon of my presence in a loud croaking voice.  They all turn to face me and draw their black weapons waiting to attack.  They are not afraid of me.  I am only one; they are ten.  I stand perfectly still, weapon yet undrawn, but ready.  Abruptly, the whole troop, with their black, battered wings, rush across the road with a fierce, croaking battle cry.  Some people glance up casually, but don’t pay attention to the dark warriors.
    Before they reach me, I turn, and with a mighty leap, leave the rooftop leading the fiendish troop far from the town.  As I fly away, three others of my company glide into town, waiting for the appropriate moment to claim it.  Before I fly too far from the town, I swerve back through the dark squad’s ranks.  They scatter, wings fluttering in surprise and do not harm me.  Before they can regroup, I hasten back to the town letting out a shrill trumpet call.
    When I get there, I notice that our number has grown from four to ten.  The people on the road still do not notice us.  Each one of our warriors is standing guard on a different rooftop.  The town is now ours.
    Regardless, I stand alert, watching the direction I had come from, ready to leap on the black soldiers if they decide to come back.  I can see them in the distance, forming makeshift ranks to rush with a flurry of black wings towards the town.  Sounding another trumpet call, two of my companions and I surge towards the on-coming troop of evil soldiers.
    A furious battle now unfolds.  Black and golden weapons flash in the sunlight; wings blur as their owners add speed.  The evil troop, expecting a frontal assault, fortifies their front line.  Unexpectedly, two more of my companions dive at them from above, throwing them into confusion.  We leave the site of the battle unscathed and knowing we have complete control over the town.  The town is ours!
    We return to the town and take our positions.  We stand there, completely silent, watching the town with piercing golden eyes.  As hawks we do not share our perches with anyone, especially crows.