Wapun Meadow I sip the liquor but it's much too harsh,

the rain just kept coming. condor had been forced to give up on mid-trek grooming, only because it would be very easy for vulture to point the finger at him when he mocked her for the exact same thing. the fact that it truly was not working was secondary.

regardless. condor cast a critical eye along the meadow, which did bear some similarity to the gorgeous fields of wildflowers that sprouted in the canyons during the rainy season but in every other regard was its inferior. it was damp, it was cold, it was muddy. in other words: 0/10, no thank you.

but of course that consideration couldn’t last long. his sister truly had a one-track mind.

his expression as he turned to her was exactly the one you might find above a therapist’s interlaced fingers, having just learned that his client breaks into peoples’ houses and steals their jewelry for fun and trying not to reveal the fact that he is now obligated to report it. “now i must agree with buzzard here, darling. for example: mud, rain, the simple joy of stealing food from people who don’t want to give it to you.”