Two days ago, the helicopter flew into our woods, sneaking around like a large dragonfly with wings spread in gauze, smeared with broken metal. We heard it at dawn and wiped the wet dew from our ears so that we could hear it again, cutting the air through our trees. The men got up and they too, were silencing with fear and surprise. I forgot to breathe.
We found him today, pampering in the sun, his shadow cut in the wee hours of the afternoon, waiting. By the time I arrived, running, shouting, with victory within earshot, the men had already arrived at the pilot. He leaned over the side of the rusty door with a small red hole in one side of his head and a large, black death splatter yawning on the other, his military uniform scattered in fragments of green shade. A bullet can carry a lot; it comes in like a thief and leaves like a drunkard.
I climbed to the top of the metal creature, hitting her green head with my fists, thinking she would be crushed like a tin cup, with a victory in my ears. But no, the enemy would be stronger, I hurt my hand, there was blood in the that oozed, but I did not care. I had fought a beast and killed her. I broke the red crystal bracelet.