The feathered hunter watched seven intruders pass Mother's outer pillar as the raptor's cord slithered home without its feeding end. It raked a talon along its perch as drops fell toward the basin, leaving the ridge unguarded before the feast.
Losing the hunting bird left one approach unwatched when the feast was almost ready.
'Three seasons on that ridge, and a hammer ended it in one ugly swing.'
"The little one crushed it," it snarled, glaring after Loccy.
"We couldn't reclaim the body before they cut its attachments."
The rabbit-woman swung her feet over the neighboring ledge, claws resting against her knees, "And now they're carrying pieces of it toward us, how thoughtful."
"It watched the ridge for three seasons," it rasped as she beamed down at the contractors, "you could leave your ledge long enough to think about that."
