He was only eight, but was already an expert falconer. It was in his blood, they would say. Every morning he was up before dawn tying bits of raw mutton to long strings. His newest falcon was young and just learning. He must get the falcon ready for the hunt. All depended on him and his falcons.
The day of the hunt arrived. It was them or the giants. They had lost too many villagers over the years to the giants. They must hunt them to keep their population under control. The boy and his falcons led the charge. Once free from their binds, the falcons flew free and soared the open skies, swooping around the giants’ heads. One by one, at the boy’s command, the falcons attacked and pierced the eyes of the giants. The giants roared in pain and lashed out at the falcons, but they were too slow to hit them.
The villagers cheered as the boy, his falcons, and the men folk returned to the castle walls. King Justin was pleased with the boy and his falcons. The royal painter was summoned to the king’s court. The boy would hang forever in the hall of the king.