Dawnlark Plains everybody knows one

From afar, Winter’s Wake observed the scene with youthful intrigue. Dark emerald eyes danced and zoomed as they did, laughing to himself with every new spray of feathers and each pathetic flap of the last grouse’s sullied wings. The palespine’s captive audience watched with delight at the cruelty he saw, as if through a child’s eyes. He saw no abuse. Only their right as the stronger, superior species.

This was a game using toys they owned; a puppet play. A performance using props on the plainfield stage.

The snowrunner’s tail swept slowly against the earth as he reclined in his viewing box, content to enjoy the show until it was over.