The Falcon soars over the cliff. He looks down at the Lynx, who has reached the edge. “Jump,” says the Falcon. “If I jump, I’ll die. There’s nothing but the sea below,” replies the Lynx. “How sad it must be not to be free,” says the Falcon. “You say that, but you’re the one who’s sad, since you never land. You only come down here to eat,” growls the Lynx. “That’s not true.” “Yes, it is.” “That’s just jealousy of my wings. If you had wings, you wouldn’t be on the brink of extinction.” The Lynx (note that it is an Iberian lynx), offended, runs into the thicket and disappears. Tears well up in the lynx’s eyes as the nettles tear at its skin. They are tears, my lord. Tears of one who wanted to be loved by the Falcon, who continues to hunt from the heights of his celestial throne.