A speckled wing stuck up from the snow. Peter couldn’t tell if it was twitching because the bird was still fighting for its life or if it was merely flailing in the wind, but it was almost as if the little wing was waving for him to come help it. He ran up to the bird, cradling both hands ready to lift it to safety. But it was no use. It had struck the ground with such force, there wasn’t enough of it left intact. The poor loon’s body was pulp.

“I’m sorry, little one,” said Peter. “I’m so sorry.”

He crouched down, trying to get purchase on a substantial enough part of the body that he could put it somewhere more private, when it happened again.

Another bird struck the lot. It dropped from the sky at such speed that its body imploded on impact. Snow on the ground surrounding the buckled wings was smattered with bits of gore. Then the poor bird’s feathers loosened from the carcass. Without enough skin or body to hold on to, they simply let go, cast away with the wind. Peter stood over the carcass, but again, all semblance of a bird was gone.

There was a sudden swoosh and another bird drove into the concrete. And another. They seemed to disappear right inside it.

Another bird landed directly on top of one of the shopping trolleys. Its beak jutted through a gap in the metal frame and the body fell still. Peter staggered back, gazing up into the clouds spiralling above him.

Clouds whipped and surged in luminous swells, transported by the scourging snow. It was so bright, Peter had to squint as if looking directly at the sun. There was a spot in the middle where the sky was grey and smudgy, like storm clouds full of rain just before the downpour. In a matter of seconds, the grey mass was closer. Then, Peter could make out individual bodies. It wasn’t rain at all, but birds. And not just a few of them. Hundreds.

Panic ripped through him. There was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to scramble. Parked cars were banked with snow, making it impossible to crawl underneath them. Shopping trolleys that had rolled out across the lot were nowhere to be seen. He turned back, looking for the entrance to the supermarket, but there was nothing but the blizzarding snow. Peter spotted the streetlamp at the edge of town and was about to make a run for it when a shaft of light broke across his feet, followed by a loud screech. A car door opened. Footsteps pounded. Someone grabbed him by the waist and before Peter knew it, his feet had left the ground and his body was dragged backwards.