The morning mist clung to the trees a soft shroud as Callie Gouldin prepared. She knew these woods every whisper every rustle.
Her eyes scanned the horizon for any sign of movement. Then a flash-a hawk.
Its shadow passed over a clearing where unclaimed capital credits lay undisturbed.
A distant memory of the 76th Annual Meeting ng flickered in her mind.
She thought of the elusive nature of justice a puzzle unsolved.
The hawk soared higher its cries echoing.
It was a dance a primal ballet in the vast sky.
Then the raw intensity of a powerful aerial display unfolded a breathtaking spectacle.
