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

none of condor’s siblings had his taste. how could they? surely vulture’s was better than buzzard’s, but that was faint praise. the ugly look indeed; the worst part was that they wore the badge proudly. looking good by comparison just was not worth it when the person you looked better than both stank and looked like a bog.

and this was his sibling, which just made it worse. every day he asked himself how they were related, and the universe gave no answer.

he was, in fact, so busy bemoaning this that he made the basic error of not paying attention to buzzard. a wave of mud splashed over his perfect, pristine (if slightly damp) fur, and he reeled backwards, but it was far too late. he was covered.

“do you know how much work it takes to maintain this coat, you barbarian?” with a disgusted shiver, condor ran his tongue over his freshly muddy shoulder. “why do i even pretend. not looking like that, you don’t.”