Meanwhile, on the other side of the forest—not too far away—Lulu, Selma, and Alia were crawling through the tall grass on their hands and knees.
Small pouches hung at their sides as they diligently picked up every chicken feather scattered across the ground, stuffing them inside with serious, focused expressions.
It was strenuous work, but they kept at it without complaint...until Selma finally couldn't take it anymore.
"Come on, Lulu, what the hell are we even doing right now?"
She demanded, frustration clear in her voice.
"You told us we could do something fun today, but here we are—crawling around picking feathers for you. What is going on?"
Alia wiped sweat from her brow and nodded.
"I'm also confused, Lulu. Why exactly are we picking feathers right here? Can you at least tell us why we're doing this?"
Lulu indignantly stood up, planting her hands on her hips like a tiny commander addressing her troops.
