i think death is bad for everyone... it's always the same. it's rather fair in it's treatment —
Grasstuft had gone out of Wind Haven for a little while, missing for about a day, not long enough for anyone to notice. He had left Eggbert in her coop, which meant he would be back in time to feed her, as he wasn't going to abandoned little Eggbert. With him, on a lead, was a small cow, a baby cow that is. It had an expression of bliss, and it seemed like Grasstuft had fed it something delicious that was in a bag, as it had attempted to bite the bag at least once already after they had gotten back onto Wind Haven territory. Grassy was leading it to the barn, as he hoped no one would yell at him for storing a cow there. He managed to arrive without anyone noticing, at least he believed so, and brought the thing in. Finding a small area to put it, he spread out some hay and laid on the ground with the cow, rolling an apple in its direction, which it ate happily before falling asleep. Grasstuft just laid there and watched it sleep. A small sleepy cow. Its parents had been hunted it seemed, as he saw parts of what he thought was a cow? Crows and animals had scavenged it, and so he took the calf as his own. A new member for his family. It was a white and creamy brown, and he had already named her Bessie. She would grow big one day and produce milk. A lot of things he could sell and make from her, without having to butcher her.