Sometimes, we must all eat, should we not? Even I, preferring the kiss of wind on my wings than grass under my hooves, land and lower my head, teeth clipping methodologically at the grass so sparkling green, and slowly turning yellow. I eat steadily, knowing that soon the emerald feed will turn ugly, dried brown, and will then be buried under snow we will dig for with our hooves. Soon the pangs of hunger will set in, turn our shiny coats to hairy pelts like a rather large, unkempt bear's coat, our muscles will thin and lose toning. This time, I worry. Our herd has grown in numbers, and I fear that the earth will not be able to support our many. It is not wholly my problem, either. There is Sumati the Sinbird and Kri the Resolute, all their advisers as well. I am just a sergeant. I know Kri respects my opinion- as long as I don't become braindead and start talking before thinking, but I somehow doubt that will ever happen to me- but... I'm not sure. In blood and honor, we will prevail.</style> |
Plot Thread
*You may do anything you wish with Andromeda excluding dismemberment and death.