Ankyra Sound twelve-hundred people dead or left to die

the waif watched in suspicion as the haggard bird tried to convince her the goodwill behind his efforts -- though she remarked quite clearly that the noises he made when he engulfed the plants were anything but appetizing.

But he hadn't died -- at least not yet. She squinted, waiting for any croaking noise to suggest he was about to die -- likely this was a fruitless endeavor, as every noise he made sounded not unlike the chatter of death.

She waited several moments, a paw held daintily in the air. Once a sufficient amount of time had passed in which she surmised was appropriate for poison to do its bidding she inched forwards on her stomach, crawling towards the small heap the bird had bundled. She was not judicious in which stalk she ate - with the voracity of a dog she mowed down on the plant, stiff branch and all.