Wordcount: Daily = 1,328, Total = 10, 040
Percentage: 20%
Not sure where this is going - but have a Kea Horror story.
“Oh
no,” Raweke suddenly exclaimed, eyes going wide with exaggerated
horror. “I've just realised...” he paused for dramatic effect.
“What if he's a Collector?”
“A
Collector?” Tiriki cocked his head, enquiringly.
“Grandfather
used to tell us of them,” Totoa explained, ruffling his feathers
and settling down on the branch. “Once, a long time ago, before
grandfather was hatched, and when his grandfather's grandfather was
just a little chick, keas and humans did not live happily
side-by-side as they do now.
Instead,
they were the direst of enemies.
The
Collector would come up into the mountains, the realms of the keas,
our realms, and he would bring with him nothing but a gun, a knives
and a sack. Sometimes he might trick a kea down with food, other
times just wait until one got too close. Then...” He leaned down,
towards Tiriki.
“BANG!”
He screeched, “he would shoot. Blood on the snow. And with his
knife, he chop, chop, chopped the dying bird's beak from its face.
Sometimes while it still wriggled and writhed in its death throes.
This beak, his trophy, would be put into a sack, with all the beaks
from his other victims.”
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