76. Not Even a Tent
This one time I was sleeping atop a mountain in the Italian Apennines. Just me, my sleeping bag and the stars. No tent. No cover. In fact, to be fair, there wasn’t even a forest; I was completely exposed to the elements, and that’s why it took me some time to fall asleep. But it didn’t last long. Just minutes before dawn, I get woken up by what I perceived as a deafening roaring of winds.
As soon as I opened my eyes, there it was, mere meters from me; a freaking ginormous eagle flying in circles above me, flapping its enormous wings in what seemed to be a desperate effort to not lose altitude and hit me. The scariest thing I’ve ever experienced.
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