Wordcount: Daily = 1,328, Total = 10, 040
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.”