Om stuck out his long scrawny neck, stared at the body just above him, picked what he hoped was about the right spot, plunged his beak through the brown feathers between the talons, and gripped. The eagle blinked. No tortoise had ever done that to an eagle, anywhere else in history. Om’s thoughts arrived in the little silvery world of its mind: “We don’t want to hurt one another, now do we?”
