Desiccation of Sandscurrys and Skylurks

I was dead, my body became desiccated. I began to slowly dust, and in this spot I became part of The Dust. The wind swept over and over my body. The wind brought, in its Bits, my body to be a part of this dry place. I could still feel as my sunbaked corpse was exhumed from its burial, soon to be recast, all of itself. There was a palpable dissonance between my life and death, in the silence of the moment there was only one droning sound, never shifting, never wavering from my being. Though as I lay there longer in this dissolution, I thought perhaps the sound aligned better with my life than with my death. In the sound-seeming-silence there was actually the presence of breath that I know so well: continuous, droning, never shifting, never wavering from my being. I had fallen prey, once as an inbetween, like the sandscurry does to the skylurk when it frets for water. 

They both fight for their hydration, but one crawls while the other flies, a clear advantage in the reaching plains. The two share similar rates of water retention; in the same day, on ground and in the air, the two grow thirsty together. They share similar proficiencies to hunt; while the sandscurry has a more frightening jaw, and a more harrowing strike, the skylurk dives from above, trained in its ability to keep its shadow behind its prey. While it is not unheard of, as one may witness the body of a skylurk in the mouth of a sandscurry, it is hard to say whether it fell from the sky, or if it was in such a state of peril that it must land and give way its greatest defense. Others say: that the skylurk in its comfort, away from predators, and most nimble itself, can become comfortable and prideful of its strength. It is often seen that the skylurk will taunt rock hiders and burrowers with their back turned. Their feathers and gait loose, the skylurk will make itself vulnerable to lead a prey away from its rockfort. Wise in some stretch is the predator that risks hunting in this sudden shift-to-prey. But food here becomes a game rather than a formula, and it is Risk that is required to play as much as it is required to win. It is a question for both players, the sandscurry and the skylurk, as to which in this spot is more vulnerable. Why is the beast hidden under the rock? 

For the skylurk knows the telltale signs of a burrow and why it may be hiding something. It may take days for the winds to fully blow away the evidence of its efforts to conceal and cool itself. But the sandscurry knows its strength to strike, for that is its sole source of sustenance. The skylurk may land some feet away from the stone, flaunt its weakness, and wait. The eyes of the winged beast can see almost all the way behind itself, but save for a small zone where its periphery flits and then becomes truly blind. This is where it fits the rock, right within its vulnerability. It knows that without being given proper Chance the ground-hugging sandscurry will never leave its hole, and the skylurk will have wasted itself on the baking sands with no reward, still thirsty and hotter for it. So it gambles a Bit. The scaled burrower will look out, knowing that to dash from its cave will be a life saving meal, or a missed shot that will end in its death. It has a single chance. Any miscalculation will result in it being torn apart alive. But that stone under which it has burrowed gives it time that the skylurk never has, a clear advantage in the reaching plains.