❝"I'm not a puppy," she straightened and looked to him with amusement, because a puppy was exactly what he was to her. A pup that had stumbled into a wolf's den. "I can find my way around just fine."

the cherry pie sits longingly on the kitchen counter, her pale knife digging into the crust with a splurt splurt of red-coloured jam. every splash records the quarter ticks of the long hand of the clock. one, two, three—what could possibly keep the resident? by the fourth timed splat, she reconsiders the benefits of this stakeout.

a pie she bought for her missing disciple. an empty fridge with dust gathering inside (except for the expired milk). and a disappointing state of affairs with a vexing conclusion: she is being purposefully avoided.

the pie is not so fresh anymore, having sat out for an hour. rendering her peace token meaningless; yet another grievance and a point against ever bothering with this diplomacy antithetical to her modus operandi. she cuts a slice and picks it up with her knife. the gooey insides drip back into the tin of the pie. still, the smell of pastry lingers, the almost-burnt from the oven from the forty minutes it took to heat up the sugar and crust represents a waste of effort.

she bites into it and mindlessly chews on the lukewarm pie.

In the conclusion of this episode, a snake would simply prey, not toy or play, and it would be surprising if the scrub jay parents did little more than echo one another's alarm as they flew about. Maybe they'd dart low in some last-ditch effort to ward the snake off. But probably not.

Replace all the beasts with humans, though... and the show would need five seasons of backstory, a whole lot of exposition, and at least two follow-up episodes of played-out angst to wring total understanding from the next two minutes.

A snake could kill and eat and not be a villain. Birds could choose themselves (and their remaining nest) over one helpless baby and not be crucified. A chick falling from its tree before its time could be simple, unfortunate collateral damage. But... make them all people... and they became a colorful cast of villains, victims, and martyrs — every choice and move they made demanding examination (and explanation).

❝Why was he so difficult? She clenched her jaw in frustration. He was handsome but he had a prey look to him...which meant he should have been easy to control. Yet he was so...full of fire that burned her every time she drew near.

The good thing was that, he’d reached some kind of accord with aforementioned Celesteela—or at least he hoped to think that this was the case—

At least they were following some distance behind him, he made sure to check. There was also this mental reminder to always speak in French around the Celesteela, too, since out of the languages he knew, that was the only one they seemed to comprehend.