Board Thread:Off-Topic Discussion/@comment-26941921-20160517120317/@comment-25498628-20160923003857

After cleaning his wounds, and preening his feathers, Arctic looks up and sees the moon is starting to rise, he picks up a scent, a carcass. Though he is too weak to deal with something this far away.

"I have picked up a scent, do you mind helping me track it,"

he tries to get up, but falls back down from the pain.

"Welp, that's great I like this situation, stuck in a ditch, a broken leg, and a faraway scent that taunts my very existence. I never had these sorts of problems where I'm from."