With the sun rising over the placid lake, day broke free of its binds, sending its brother moon to rest. A calm wind blew, sending the cattails that lined the lake's side bending over just barely, attempting in vain to resist. Geese and ducks calmly floated across the lake, enjoying the warm morning light, each preening the others feathers. Suddenly, there was a loud splash and the nervous avians took off, fluttering their wings to gain altitude from the creature that had spooked them.

	From several meters up, a bird that had been waiting on, spotted the flock as it was sprung. Majestic as it was, the avian dove, adjusting its wings as it stooped like a bullet, easily pushing near two-hundred miles per hour as it went. Downwind, the hunter continued to descend upon the panicking prey, the fairly large, blue-black predator swooping down, twitching its black wingtips slightly to adjust it's trajectory as it rapidly approached one of the heads of the group it was aiming for.

	It had taken only seconds since start of the avian's dive, a loud thump following as the falcon collided against duck, notched beak making quick work of the bound animal, ending it's existence. Still, the raptor was taking it's prey to the ground and in just mere seconds crashed cleanly into the soft muck just off the shore. Here, it sat, wings mantling off to the side while plucking the feathers off the neck of its catch.

	From nearby, another figure approached. While humanoid in stature, this creature was anything but. A soft array of feathers were on its body, face  and arms covered, a thick, orange curved beak extending from his face. Below, from roughly his knees all the way down were covered in thick, rough scales and where feet would be, were instead tarsus and talons. Light clothed in a simple pair of linen clothing, and donning a thick, leather gauntlet on his leg hand, the avian humanoid began making in towards the falcon.

	He what was known as a Strutholoki. A quiet race of avian-humanoids that tend to live moreso on the far outskirts of towns and cities in their quiet villas. They are very much hard-workers and exist to be within nature rather than the hustle and bustle of city life. Many opt to be farmers or hunters, selling their goods within the towns on and off during the week to survive.

	This Strutholoki was no different. However, he was a unique string of hunter. Rather than using modern equipment of hunting, he hunted with his avian companion an ancient and almost forgotten art known as Falconry. Settling next to his hunting companion, the bird-man extended his glove hand and offered the falcon some meat off of a previous kill, egging her to the side to step off the slain critter it had gripped and was tear feathers off of. At first, the peregrine seemed to pay no mind to the tidbit it was given but eventually, he started to become more attentive. The falconer tossed the food to the side and reached under, grabbing the quarry in his gauntlet, tugging it backwards gently while the hunter gripped tighter until eventually letting go, scrambling for the chunk of meat.

	Pulling the duck out, the avian peered at the lifeless form and set it to the side, hidden from his bird's view. Gently, he took a hold of her jesses and placed her on the fist, quickly clasping the strips of leather to a leash and clamping said leash to his glove. A full proof system that was invented ages ago to prevent the bird from flying away. With her attached, the birdman reached into the hunting vest he was wearing before pulling out a domeshaped piece of leather with a single triangular piece cut out on the front, a series of knots on the top of it with assorted feathers sticking out and two think and long strips in the back. Carefully, the falconer stroked the object across the falcon's breast and when it looked down to investigate, the man swiftly tilted the hood up, covering the bird of prey's head in it. 

	With the hood on, the male used his beak and a talon to tighten to hood snug so she couldn't shake it off before giving off a sharp whistle.
	“Chaz! Darling! Come here!”

	Smiling, the man looked out to where a child Strutholoki appeared and approached from. She was giggling and laughing the entire way, her yellow dress flapping in the wind. She was much, much smaller than the big male she was next to but in a few seasons, she'd dwarf him. Standing at the falconer's side, the girl known as 'Chaz' smiled and looked up, “Yes, Daddy?”

	The falconer ruffled his daughters crestfeathers, peering down at her with a beak-smile, “Care to hold of Ivy for me? I need to gut this duck.”
	“Of course, papa!” 

	With practiced precision, the Father-Daughter combo traded, the young one slipping her small, soft hand into her father's glove while he slipped his hand out. Chazori noticed how sweaty and hot it was within; They had been hunting for hours now and all three were exhausted. Kneeling down, the male Strutholoki pulled out his knife and started to gut the duck, promptly field dressing it. Plucking would have to wait until they got home.

	“Papa?” The little girl asked.

“Mmm?”

	“When will I become a Falconer like you, papa?”
	The father hesitated and rolled his shoulders some. It was uncustomary for a girl to even take a male's job. But, as of yet, he was yet to have an heir to his profession and his profession was dying quickly. As far as he knew, there were maybe one or two other falconers out there and practicing this ancient and sacred art. And none of the eggs that he and his wife had tended to were fertile. None since Chazori hatched and even then it was thought to be a miracle.

	Peering down at his bloodied talons and knife, the father smiled at his daughter and placed the slain bid in his hunting bag. His head turned as he got up, peering down at his daughter before offering her up onto his shoulder. The young girl accepted gleefully, her father pulling her up to sit on his shoulder, “Hold the jesses tight, Chazori. Don't let Ivy go, ya hear?”

	“I hear ya papa!”

	Together, the pair started to wander off towards home, the sun starting to raise further and further into the air. He glanced off to the land before him and beyond as he crested the hill before them.
The pair gazed beyond at their nesting home, the great capital city of Molafi off in the north and smoke rising in the far east...

	Working his way down the hill, the falconer decided then. 

	He was going to take Chazori as an apprentice

	She was going to be a falconer.