“So you can assemble an army, and reclaim the territory the gulls rightfully own. So you can have the influence you once did. So you can be a leader!” Riski whisper-shouted.Fish Sticks shuffled his feet. Then he shuffled his wings. For once in his squawk-filled life, he felt reluctant to speak. Maybe it was due to the fear of being beat up. Or maybe it was some sort of stage-fright. He cleared his throat, opened his beak, and then clacked it shut again. “Why do I have to do this again?” He asked, staring down at the multitude of milling gulls. There wasn’t too many, but there sure was enough to hold off a small gang of pigeons, if it came to that. Maybe not win, but a group this size could certainly intimidate.