She pulled it out. The little fabric mouse was faded and ragged, but recognizable. Coco never went anywhere without it—neither did Lisa. “She used to chase this like it was alive,” she murmured. Without another word, Lisa wound her arm back and threw it as far as she could.
The toy spun through the air and landed far to the left, near a patch of tall grass. The eagle’s head snapped around. It hovered mid-air, confused for half a second, then suddenly pivoted and darted after the motion, wings slicing the wind. Lisa barely breathed.