Two-Line Tuesday

From Christina Dodd's Touch of Darkness

As the Ferry closed on the island, he could see more detail-the blush of summer grass,the few trees, bent and blasted by wind, the white sand beaches beneath the cliffs. The place was a haven for seabirds; they wheeled through the air, crying of long migrations and short summers, and a single golden eagle flew high above them all, hunting...always hunting.

And mine:

It was still dark in the room, and though I couldn't hear the rain, I could see the shimmer of it against the glass of the window. From the chair next to my bed, a slumped figure snored softly.

Remember to head over to women of mystery for more two-lines.