It's a young adult fantasy. What do you think? Does it flow nice, etc. Please tell me what you like and don't like about it 
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The night air was crisp and cold. A light breeze whipped around Damon’s head as he stood impatiently on the watch tower of Castle Loch. He was waiting for something…a messenger bird in fact. Before him the great loch stretched out to the base of the mountains. The moon peeked out from the gray clouds, casting an eerie reflection across the magnificent loch. Tonight the moon could have been as large as his hand…. if he took notice, but Damon stood on the white stone tower tapping his foot. Every few seconds he would peer into the moonlight, searching for the bird. His impatience was getting the better of him. Behind him the tap, taps of the watch guards boots wandered around and around the tower.
‘It is cold out, sire. Is there something we can do?’ One approached Damon. The moonlight made the sparkled silver lining and patterns embroidered on his purple cloth uniform. Underneath the chainmail glistened in the same way the embroidery did. His dark eyebrows rested above mildly concerned eyes, studying Damon and awaiting his answer.
‘No,’ he spat, ‘just do your duty.’
The guard strolled back casually to his post, a hand on the hilt of the hilt of his sword. Damon turned back to the night, shedding his eyes over the mountainous horizon.
Blended in with the clouds, a winged creature flew effortlessly past the grey puffs of clouds. It looked small at first, but with each flap of its wings it gradually grew larger and larger. At last the magnificent eagle circled the watchtower, casting its black eyes over the guards and Damon. His glossy feathers glistened in the night shine. The light whistle of his flight echoed softly in the lonely night. Soldiers muttered to one another loudly and the sound of swords withdrawing from their sheaths reached Damon’s ears.
‘No,’ Damon called out to them, ‘It is for me.’
Damon outstretched his arm as a perch for the eagle and it dived onto it gracefully. Damon set the bird from his arm to the crenellated wall. He withdrew a leather pouch from his gray cape and took a square of meat from it, throwing it at the eagle. It caught the meat in a swift snatch and Damon untied the scroll on its left foot.
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The night air was crisp and cold. A light breeze whipped around Damon’s head as he stood impatiently on the watch tower of Castle Loch. He was waiting for something…a messenger bird in fact. Before him the great loch stretched out to the base of the mountains. The moon peeked out from the gray clouds, casting an eerie reflection across the magnificent loch. Tonight the moon could have been as large as his hand…. if he took notice, but Damon stood on the white stone tower tapping his foot. Every few seconds he would peer into the moonlight, searching for the bird. His impatience was getting the better of him. Behind him the tap, taps of the watch guards boots wandered around and around the tower.
‘It is cold out, sire. Is there something we can do?’ One approached Damon. The moonlight made the sparkled silver lining and patterns embroidered on his purple cloth uniform. Underneath the chainmail glistened in the same way the embroidery did. His dark eyebrows rested above mildly concerned eyes, studying Damon and awaiting his answer.
‘No,’ he spat, ‘just do your duty.’
The guard strolled back casually to his post, a hand on the hilt of the hilt of his sword. Damon turned back to the night, shedding his eyes over the mountainous horizon.
Blended in with the clouds, a winged creature flew effortlessly past the grey puffs of clouds. It looked small at first, but with each flap of its wings it gradually grew larger and larger. At last the magnificent eagle circled the watchtower, casting its black eyes over the guards and Damon. His glossy feathers glistened in the night shine. The light whistle of his flight echoed softly in the lonely night. Soldiers muttered to one another loudly and the sound of swords withdrawing from their sheaths reached Damon’s ears.
‘No,’ Damon called out to them, ‘It is for me.’
Damon outstretched his arm as a perch for the eagle and it dived onto it gracefully. Damon set the bird from his arm to the crenellated wall. He withdrew a leather pouch from his gray cape and took a square of meat from it, throwing it at the eagle. It caught the meat in a swift snatch and Damon untied the scroll on its left foot.