Out of the Hole

Peck. Peck. Peck.  Our new vulture friend dutifully pecked away at our rock prison with its razor, sharp beak. I can't imagine it was the most pleasant experience for the bird, but nevertheless it chipped away at the rock. Perhaps it was doing penance. I don't know. I wasn't gonna question too much. When the vulture finally chipped away at the last bit of rock it looked up into the sky then flew off. Olivia and I climbed out of the hole. I stared at the sky, watching the bird become smaller and smaller until it  vanished.  "I don't think he's coming back." Olivia says. "No, I suppose not. Guess we're on our own again."