[Statement of Badgergaze, regarding death and vultures. Statement taken April 27, 2026. Archivist recording.] <tape recorder clicks on> I've been hunting constantly recently. Haven't stopped ever. Patrolling, too. Have I slept? I don't think so. Birds circle over our camp, and from what I know, they're vultures. Ready to pick off the next cat that drops de@d. Spirits above, we're all so thin. No meal for a vulture, certainly not for the one following me. 'Hear that, bidrbrain?' I call above, the great white feathered creature circling. 'I'm just fur down here!' It cries out, unconvinced. It's circling lower now, as I trek through tired nights. How long has it been following me? And lower it comes And finally, the day we pulled through. The preypile is fully stocked for the first time in a moon or so. And so it finally lands as well. But no hate in it's eyes, or aggression, just simple black pools. It follows me now, but without malice. I think it's proud I pulled through. Statement Ends.
Yesss he has an egyptian vulture companion named Cumulus now :)
