tempest

Wisecrack knew nothing of weather. His whole life had been in captivity, locked away from such things. He had never truly known the sun, the rain, the snow. So he did not catch on to these signs that the wolf below him was seeing. It had been his intention to find somewhere warm to hunker down, but he simply could not find such a place. All the macaw could find was cold and damp. What a horrid place. But certainly no more horrid than his tiny cage where he had been kept for the first ten years of his life.

Sure, there had been plentiful food and warmth, but never the freedom like that he experienced now. And such a strange assortment of creatures were to be found out here in the open. This place seemed to be covered with large dogs from north to south, east to west. Actually, the colorful bird saw one just below him as he was flying, and thought it funny to let his bowels loose on the thing. It was not like it would be able to catch him when he was all the way up here. Wisecrack was an infantile creature, and he cackled in delight as he attempted to poop on the fur-beast below.