Every year there are these people that are shooting pigeons. My brother and I found a pigeon, we called him Harry. Harry got shot in the wing so he couldn't fly. He soon got used to us. After a while we found another pigeon, this one was a girl, we called her Lily. Harry was much happier now that he had a friend.
Lily couldn't fly because her wing was broken. Lily died, we didn't now why because she was eating and drinking. We set Harry free. A few weeks later we saw him with a few other pigeons which made me very happy.