You are a cat demon

The hunting eagle Carmen, who had been as quiet as a statue, suddenly let out a long howl. Facing the vast plains and the sun gradually peeking out from the mountain pass, the howl seemed to have the power to penetrate the soul, and your heart was shaken.

You've heard the call of the golden eagle, and the call of the hunting eagle Carmen, but they're not exactly the same as the awe-inspiring sound you imagine, they're completely unrelated. In reality, the golden eagle's call is about the same as a chick's, not even as loud as the rooster crowing at your neighbor's house. In human terms, it's like a 1.8-meter-tall strongman with a 1.5-meter-tall face. Heaven knows, when you heard those clear, resonant "hoof hoof hoof," your raptor-like image of the golden eagle almost shattered.

So when you hear it let out that long howl, your first reaction is, "Did I hear that right? Is that really a powerful sound coming from it? How much did they pay for the voice acting?"

The golden eagle's long cry echoed through the empty valley, stretching endlessly. The moment the first echo could be clearly heard, it suddenly flapped its wings and took flight, heading towards the distant valley, facing the rising sun, leaving behind joyful cries as it flew away.

Soon, its silhouette grew smaller and smaller until it was almost completely integrated into the sun's large sphere of light.

You suddenly have a bad feeling, as if something terrible is about to happen.

A few minutes felt like an eternity. You finally saw it fly back, safely and soundly. But the ominous feeling still lingered in your heart, and you were still hanging on by a thread.

You know, this is far from over!

The golden eagle circled endlessly around you and around Cherry Blossom Village.

At first, you might think it's patrolling its territory, just like you, but it doesn't look like that at all, because it's also performing various difficult flight maneuvers, either standing still against the wind or soaring upwards, more like it's performing acrobatics.

Just as you begin to lean in, as if to show off its superb flying ability, it suddenly stops at a 45-degree angle above you, as if it has crashed into an invisible wall. Then, it shakes its entire body, raises the downy feathers on its neck, and, as if facing a formidable enemy, extends its sharp claws to pluck and claw at the air, its sharp beak constantly pecking forward. This posture, this imposing manner, is as if it is dealing with an intruder who has invaded its territory. After a brief struggle, the "intruder," seemingly with its feathers shattered and fleeing in disarray, lets out a short, sharp screech, as if celebrating a successful territorial defense.

You thought the matter was over, but it didn't stop there. Instead, it began a new aerial performance, this time more graceful and powerful than the previous one, somewhat resembling the unique dance of golden eagles. Oh, you see, this time it was mimicking the courtship ritual of the golden eagle species.

You were perched on a holly tree, admiring its spectacular aerial display. You had almost forgotten your initial worries, but then, as if doused with a bucket of cold water, you snapped back to reality, a chill creeping into your heart.

What exactly is it doing?

What exactly does it want to do?

Just then, a tiny sparrow flew past you. Perhaps this little guy was hiding nearby, but was so frightened by the commotion caused by the golden eagle that he almost flew out of his skin and darted past right under the eagle's nose without a care in the world.

The beautiful bubble was eventually burst mercilessly.

The golden eagle, lost in its own world, snapped out of its reverie, shrieked, and with a speed almost imperceptible, appeared directly above the unfortunate little sparrow, its two sharp talons engulfing the bird. Before you could even hear a desperate cry from the sparrow, you smelled a faint scent of blood in the air, and a few blood-stained feathers drifted down in front of you. By the time you reacted, the once lively sparrow was torn to shreds and mashed into a pulp.

You shivered.

The golden eagle dropped the little sparrow, which was already dead beyond repair, let out a joyful cry, folded its wings, and flew down to the holly tree branch it usually stayed on, landing next to you.

You were chilled to the bone by its almost frenzied actions, yet afraid that your hasty retreat would anger it. If it truly lost its mind and became a reckless madman, you weren't entirely confident you could defeat it; the little sparrow's fate could very well be yours. You could only crouch there motionless, holding your breath, observing its every move.

Fortunately, the golden eagle had done everything it wanted to do and vented its frustrations. For the time being, it seemed to have no interest in you and would continue to treat you as if you were invisible, continuing to stand quietly facing the sun that had already risen over the mountain.

For a very long time, it remained motionless in that position, like a lifeless stone.

An ominous feeling washes over you again.

You called to it softly, but received no response. Still unwilling to give up, and prepared to run away at any moment, you carefully circled around to its side, only to realize with horror that it had already stopped breathing.

In the most prominent spot on the tree, the golden eagle stands proudly. Gentle sunlight bathes it, making its brown feathers seem edged with gold, each one shimmering with the luster of life. In its eyes, there remains the unique brute's gaze, a look of arrogance that surveys the heavens and earth, of everything beneath its gaze. It stares at the rising sun, at the vast, boundless plains. And you, too, are being stared at by it.

It is dead, yet it is still alive.

At this moment, it was no longer Carmen the hunting eagle, but a real golden eagle.

You don't understand.

Considering its recent unusual behavior and its spectacular flight maneuvers that almost perfectly encapsulate the daily life of a golden eagle, you can tell that it is very dissatisfied with its current life, and it wishes it could still be a free and unfettered golden eagle.

But you really don't understand the point of doing this.

It wants to leave, and no one is stopping it, not even you. You might even be hoping it gets rid of you sooner. It could easily flap its wings and fly away while its owner is away, and its owner couldn't do anything about it, at most just regretting losing a good hunting partner. Its owner saved it, but over the years it has helped its owner catch hundreds, if not thousands, of prey. The debt of gratitude has long been repaid, and it doesn't need to bear any psychological pressure.

Is it reluctant to leave? Impossible. There's nothing in Sakura Village that it's attached to. Unlike you, it never chose to stay here for a long-term meal ticket or some human who stirs its heart.

It died from exhaustion.

You have no idea what it has been through these past few days, nor do you know what it was thinking as it stood on the holly tree gazing into the distance, nor do you know if it felt a pang of regret as it faced its impending death.

Whether it dies sooner or later, it's all the same. Why did it choose to die at this particular time? And if it's not even afraid of death, why not live in the present? Once you're dead, you lose everything, don't you?

Before it died, it seemed to have a final burst of energy, flying back to Sakura Village and displaying its golden eagle flight performance before you. Was it really just a performance? What message was it trying to convey to you?

You may never know the answer.

The sun rises as usual, and everything seems the same as always, as if the demise of that golden eagle was just a dream.