An average day for an average kin. Murkcrow was wandering around the area where he made his home in search of hidden secrets--patches of choice berry bushes, clear artesian wells, obscure caves, that sort of thing. He was always pleased with himself when he found some previously unknown feature of the landscape. So far today he had found a good blueberry bush and now he had a branch laden with fruit draped over his back. It would be good to share some with another kin, Murkcrow thought. He was always roaming around territory that might be accurately described as desolate. Somehow he ran into unexplained does quite often, but it seemed he'd have to go looking if he wanted to meet any bucks--and he did want to meet bucks.
Murkcrow considered the four directions carefully. He could go north, but his mother lay in that direction, and he wasn't sure he wanted anything to do with any bucks he'd find there. He could go south, but he was already at the southern edges of what most kin considered the hospitable part of the swamp. That left east and west. Murkcrow supposed he could trek far enough to avoid his mother in either direction, then head northward, but he was indecisive about which way he should go. He picked up a stick and chucked it into the air. He watched it fall and examined the direction it was pointing when it landed. It was more "north" than "east," but it would do.
"East it is," he muttered to himself, pulling a couple berries off the branch before heading in that direction.
