Golden Glade Home on the Remains

One of the great things about the corvids was that they likely weren't going to have stomachs full of gross half-decayed green stuff that needed to be removed before consuming.  Meat and bugs were far more likely, so as he gets to the last few strips outside the ribcage.  The internal organs were only a short crunch away, and easily eaten after that.  There wasn't much more left to the bird, though he'd likely pick through it a bit later, for now he turned more of his attention to the stranger.  Local?  Whatever he was.  Not unless I've gone in a loop.  That would mean his sense of direction was super awful, but thankfully for him, it wasn't.  The air sometimes smells like I'll hit the ocean soon.  Suppose I'll have to turn then.  Stop.  Something.  He didn't really have much of a plan beyond that.  Nowhere so far had really called him to stay, but then again maybe Quixote was looking for something that wasn't ever going to answer.  Perhaps it was all a fantasy and he'd just have to settle for whatever seemed best.  It was far more likely that now that he had opportunities before him, he just didn't know what he wanted.