Excerpt: Pio: A Hero Comes Out of His Shell

Pio wrapped his wiry toes around the train car's metal edge, and again flashed his wings, pounding them furiously against the air. His confidence thus boosted, he pushed off with his scaly feet and grabbed at the air with his wings. He clutched, grasped and fumbled with it, until at last, he felt the air grab him back and push him up. He shoved against it again and again, climbing the invisible ladder known only to birds. His heart soared, outstripping his wings, and called to him from the clouds. Up he flew, following the beckoning of his exuberant heart.
“Atta boy, son!” his dad piped, now somewhere below him. “Let's see what you got!”
Pio flew with abandon. White, woolly clouds swam around him in the pink dawn, the morning sun soaking him in joy. High he stretched, flexing and releasing his new found muscles in confident, instinctual rhythm. Far below, his mother fluttered on the ledge with his little sister. He could see her little body convulsing with effort, shouting at him. He couldn't hear her. He flew higher, his white wing glinting in the dazzling sun.
Without warning, pain stabbed his eye and seared through his head and shoulder. Pio lost control of his flight, and fell. He was shoved down, and yanked upward again. Pumping his wings and stretching his legs, he tried to right himself, wrenching his neck around to see what had him. In spite of the agonizing pain in his head and chest, Pio was astonished to see a bird smaller than himself hovering just above him. The kestrel hawk's feathers blazed blood red and royal blue, like the fighter planes at the airport, and his jet black eyes and shrill shriek froze Pio's heart. Before Pio could think, the small bird rocketed toward him again. Pio tried to regain direction and control, but he couldn't see properly and hot pain shot through his white wing. He knew he was doomed. He rolled in the air to face his attacker.