B27C17 - Diversion

<I'm stuck! My talon is caught on some kind of barnacle or something!>

<Diversion!> Jake snapped. <Now!>

<Make it look like we're chasing the hawk away from our territory,> Cassie said. <Try slamming Tobias. It may knock him loose.>

<Oh, great,> Tobias grumped.

We flapped hard and took off, not worried about flying together. We were seagulls. We belonged. Besides, we weren't the only gulls wheeling around the whale.

<Let's wreak some havoc,> I said.

I gained altitude, thirty or forty feet, and swooped. I snatched a man's pretzel right out of his mouth.

We milled and screeched; we stole food and sideswiped people; and we used the seagull's ultimate weapon: precision guided, cruise-missile poop.

<Chapman is mine,> Marco said. <Ready. Aim . . . hah!>

Sploot!

Chapman wasn't looking up. A pity.

I broke away from the melee and aimed for Tobias. <Which talon?> I asked.

<Oh, man,> he groaned. <Left.>

I hit him, chest out, barely braking. I caught him where his left leg met his own chest.

Whumpf!

The talon tore free. Tobias flapped, skimming along the back of the whale.