Talking to Daryush

     She lifted her head to the sky as she heard the first of the bombers fly overhead.  She looked down to see the Ahriman look directly at her. 

     Irti jumped into the air.  Her black wings unfurled spanning their full Twelve-foot length.  They beat a couple of times, hovering over the alleyway.  She swooped down, diving at the man.

     He gazed at her.  “Irti, we should talk first.”  He lifted his wings and flapped a couple of times to gain altitude.

     “My claws are not out yet.”  Irti responded.  She slowed her descent to let him come close to her.

     He smiled at her, “I can see that.”

     “We can talk over the channel, and get away from the humans,” Irti suggested. She waited patiently for yet another response.

     He smiled at her once again; at one time she could read his looks.  “Okay, but . . . ”

     “No buts . . . You have no idea what will be those humans’ fates.  And we are charged with no interferences.  I would like an explanation.”  She said sweetly. 

     “That I will give to you.”  He flew by her letting a white wing brush her own. 

     She followed.  This was the first time in years that she had seen him.  She had fought and maimed many of his kind over that time.  But him, he was the leader, a person of interest to her council. 

     She watched him flying straight east of the city toward the English Channel.  She was thinking about the council of elders, with judgment of the most important of her kind.  She knew she would be omitting from her report that she talked to Daryush Hatef.