(Nickel. I had to look it up to figure out the correct spelling. I am still very confused.)(Wait, is it Nickel or Nickle? XD)
Cement watched the strange pigeon silently, offering neither an argument to the existence of pigeon-and-tin-can-eating gulls nor even a confused look. She flapped off the branch, following Nickle with a steadier flight-path. At Russet's question, Cement dipped back to him. "I have no idea,"
---
"It doesn't matter what kinda notgul he is, notgul!" Fish Sticks squawked. It seemed all he ever did was squawk. "What're you doin' attacking me? Did I eat at one of yer burger-houses again?" He squinted, trying to remember the last fast-food restaurant trashcan he had raided.
Blizzard puffed out his feathers and hovered above the pair. He glanced at Fish Sticks wearily. "Are you sure this is the right gull?" He asked the pinned lieutenant, "He seeks rather.. harmless. And uninjured." It was then that Blizzard noticed the blood on the floor. His eyes narrowed.
Nickel flew over buildings and alleys, parks and streets. He knew every one. There, that alley marked the edge of Cement's territory. And now they were quickly approaching the park where the wrinkly loud stomper always fed the pigeons. It was where Nickel often got a bite, and perhaps the only reason for his survival. Now they flew over the industrial district, a wide, empty space, with machinery and large buildings sprinkled begrudgingly throughout. Nickel could never be quite sure why the loud stompers always put so much space between them and the dump, a land of many delightful things. Then again, he found no reason for them to throw out so much stuff in the first place. The loud stompers were a mysterious race, which held many benefits.
He knew Rubble's gang hung around this area, and he tried not to stay long. The thrifty pigeons in this district didn't like others to encroach upon their significantly less available food supply. The tiny pigeon sped up, digging deep for his roots, where a great racer was sure to be. It was the final stretch.
And then, and then, the piles of rusting metal, moldy food, and seemingly mint plastic. The dump.
"The junk-yard!" Nickel sang.
Russet's eyes widened as he saw the... the stuff. "Woah, look at all this..." he said, speeding up. He landed on a pile, inspecting a the things scattered around him. A plastic bag tumbled by. "Look, a perfectly good tuna sandwich. How come you've never taken me here before?" he asked, nudging a half-eaten sandwich and tilting his head at Cement.
Gulls spun overhead. Russet gulped. A trio of pigeons was no match for that quantity of gulls, even if they had weapons.
"The city was already too much for the pigeons to defend, so the junk-yard... well, the pigeons never lived there in the first place. So it's gull territory," Nickel said.
"I knew that," Russet said quickly.
-
Moonlight twisted her neck, getting a rather upside down view of the gull. Harmless, he seemed. Injured, yes. "Well who else could it be? A gull in Raven Territory? Don't tell me that's some kind of coincidence?"
Riski peered down at her. "Well we can. Because I've got you beneath my foot. And really, what is a pigeon doing in Raven Territory?"
"Inter...ug...territorial fugi..." Moonlight gasped. "You weigh like..."
"Roughly the weight of a cat. Any more questions?" Riski tilted black eye towards her. Moonlight was unnerved by the intelligence carried in the eye of such a ridiculous face.
"What are your names? And are you fugitives? Maybe?" Are you going to tear me to shreds with that beak and eat me?
Riski let out a long laugh. "Lucky guess." Short answer, yes.