We watched from the clifftop as the air rippled behind it, and all the hooting, whistling things of the forest lifted into the air, bursting into a panicky chorus. Uwaelee strove up into the missile’s wake, chasing after it as it sped away, as if she would follow it all the way into orbit. And after a moment, Hoolinyae and Eenyo soared after her. “Please, come on, please,” Josephine was muttering. The missile shrank until it was a golden star in the evening sky, and then vanished. Hoolinyae, Eenyo, and the others remained circling like eagles on a thermal. And then there was an awful scream. Eenyo, clutching at his neck, was plummeting from the sky. Hoolinyae and Uwaelee uttered shrieks of alarm and darted to catch him, but I could see him still spasming in Hoolinyae’s arms. “It didn’t work!” I said, horrified. “We missed, or . . .” The satellite was still working. And it knew what had happened, and it was punishing Eenyo for the attempt. “OON, OON,” keened Uwaelee.
