Sex: Female
Go north. Find the mountain.
What was this, take two? Take three? In theory, finding Annabird should have been easy, right? Mountains were hard to miss. Wolf packs were harder to miss, they stunk for miles and miles on end. But there was rain, and then some fucking coyotes, and frankly, Little Crow was starting to feel all sorts of turned around – like she’d walked by it seven times but she’d had sand in her eyes and couldn’t make out shapes from the darkness.
The female huffed loudly, squinting at some of the season’s first berries. They were still….mostly green. Her stomach growled and her ears fell back. Green usually meant bad to eat, but…
Dios mio, could it be worse than starving to death?
“Yeah,” she muttered darkly to herself a moment later, “there’s always something worse than starving to death.”
Today’s question was: was it the berries?