Thanks to dear Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and to Ted for the photo.
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We did our usual walk today, me and ma, our favourite route. A calm space to mull over daily life. Today was different.‘Hey ma, who or what  is this ?’‘A heap of metal I’d say,  a defunct drone ?.

‘No no, I think it’s a baby bird, it seems so helpless, or injured?’

‘Leave it Cissy, we should walk away. If it is a weird baby bird, its mother will abandon it if we touch it’.

‘Where is it’s mother ? I can’t walk away, its eyes are sad.’

‘What’s the deafening noise above us ?’

‘A huge drone , run for it ma.’