“These old bones remember the anchient times. Fields of grass and mice, warm sun and sallow skies. Many a friend and foe, squabbles and petty fights. The thrill of the kill, or grumbling aching hunger.”

“These old bones are soon to make their last.”

“But yes, I’ll enjoy your fanciful flightless fowl once more… Eh- light on the fire-mouth powder this time, please”