Kintla Flatlands and you always knew the way to bring me down

he didn't get it. while indra was not surprised, it did little to soften the blow. her features subtly crumpled as she watched him rip the fragile thing from limb to limb. just moments before the barr-feathered bird had been pacing the ground in an elaborate display of feather and gaiety. twenty seconds ago seemed like a lifetime. for the bird, it may well have been.

she hadn't expected the stranger to offer his meal. a dull pang thrummed in her empty stomach as she considered the offer, but she wouldn't take it. it was not right - indra knew the law of the world: those that take get ahead - those that do not get left behind. she had not executed the kill, and so it was not hers to govern. she could not violate such an ironbound convention. it was not her bird to take.

indra was not concerned with appearing rude as she shook her head to decline the offer. "who are you?" she asked, watching him from a distance as he consumed his meal. the two exchanged mild pleasantries and indra was quick on her way.

she didn't come across another grouse as she returned home, but she did manage to secure one hapless vole, which she proudly supplanted in bearclaw's caches once she made it home. it had not been an entirely unsuccessful day, and indra had at least garnered some sort of experience from her efforts.