[Is the hawk .. laughing at her? Thursday abruptly stops making her pitiful churrling grumbling sound. How can she know for sure? And how, for the matter, can she make her own identity known?
Her solution is simple - she looks around for a stick in the grass and, finding one, stoops and grabs it up between her teeth. Next she makes her stumbling way over to the bottom of Derek's tree and a relatively flat patch of dirt.
Writing with her mouth with a stick for a stylus would be difficult enough without the foreign body. She tries to draw a small circle, and about a yard to the right she draws another. Beneath them both she scrawls a wobbly, curvy line. It was supposed to be a sad-face, but standing back to review her work she wonders whether she herself could make it out if the situation was reversed. Oh well - Now her eyes are on the bird.
no subject
Her solution is simple - she looks around for a stick in the grass and, finding one, stoops and grabs it up between her teeth. Next she makes her stumbling way over to the bottom of Derek's tree and a relatively flat patch of dirt.
Writing with her mouth with a stick for a stylus would be difficult enough without the foreign body. She tries to draw a small circle, and about a yard to the right she draws another. Beneath them both she scrawls a wobbly, curvy line. It was supposed to be a sad-face, but standing back to review her work she wonders whether she herself could make it out if the situation was reversed. Oh well - Now her eyes are on the bird.
Your move.]