Bessy smirked, so he was too pathetic to be even a minuscule threat to her status. The bulging eyes, the white face and fluffed feather, he was the type of turkey who nobody knew their name. “Well Slate,” she purposely bit the word out hiding her grin of delight at the terrified expression on his face, gently she tilted her head so she looked more predatory, like a cat when it’s about to pounce. “And why might you be here? On the ground?” She asked her voice was soft but for those who took the bate of her voice sounding sweet her voice would likely be what haunted their nightmares.Thrush began scratching for acorns as well.
(You had me at “swagger oozing confidence” XD she’s hilarious!)
Slate’s brain began a disfunctional scramble from the moment the last turkey he would want to approached him. The only bird he had to steer clear from while all of the rangers had left the fence. The one with wild and unbelievable stories. The one who smelt fear. Bessy.
If the fear-smelling rumor was true, Slate would have done well to wipe the panicked expression off his face so he didn’t make his fear even more obvious. Unfortunately, Slate couldn’t see himself, so he shouted his identity with bugging eyes, a white face, and fluffed feathers. “SLATE! I’m Slate.”
This is the sort of punishment I get for leaving my branch.