The dark bird whizzed through the sky, it’s grey, leathery wings barely moving. The razor-sharp teeth in its beak glinted in the afternoon sun. But however violent its appearance, it was a bird lost in thought.
Some things can be a real pain if you’re undead. Especially insurance. And it’s even worse if you’re an undead bird. The Werewolves’ Guild won’t have you, nor will the Vampires’ Coven. Hell, even the zombies wouldn’t take you and that’s saying something. You’re just a bird, undead or otherwise.
And this undead bird was probably the only of its kind. It thought about all of these things. And then, like a blurry memory from a past life, which it was, came the realisation that all this had stemmed from his greed, his gluttony. And some undead meat.
Following this vein of thought, it obligingly flew right into the circle of haziness that patiently awaited it. Immediately it turned into a vortex and began to tug at the bird. The bird pushed forward, dragging the vortex along with it. But the vortex was much stronger than it. With a deafening screech, the bird’s head went in and ‘pop’, the vortex was gone, bird included.