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“You don’t know what a goose is? Where are you from where there are no geese?” Kongar asked.  Chantara snorted disdainfully.  The Shrike smiled grimly.

Wouldn’t you like to know…

Kongar grinned at her mockingly.  “Well, farm girl, tell them.”

“Tell them yourself,” Chantara snapped.  Kongar raised his eyebrows as she gritted her teeth.

“That–” she flicked her wrist at a fat white goose, standing not too far from where the Shrike sat.  “Is called a goose. They’re the most vicious waterfowl on this side of hell. They have no inherent special powers unless you count aggression.”

“Speaking from experience, goose-whisperer?” Kongar asked cheerfully.  Chantara’s fingers were scored with tiny cuts and swollen bruises.

She tossed her head and glared at Kongar, who only laughed.

The Shrike shot a wary look at the goose.  The bird gazed back, eyes glinting maliciously.  He sighed and buried his face between his knees.

For once, he almost wished he was back in Spire.  He could see it now, the glow of the reactors broken against thousands of pipes and coils – the mechanical heart of the energy center.  He could almost feel the gentle hum of the machinery in his bones, the soft warmth radiating from the depths the reactors.

Perhaps not what most people would call a pleasant home, but it was nicer than the labs.

I’m so hungry…

A sharp pain suddenly pricked at his scalp.  The Shrike whipped around to see the goose standing behind him, a long lock of white hair pinned in its bill.

“Get out of here,” He swatted at the goose distractedly.  It lunged at his hand and hissed, glaring up at him with beady black eyes.  It turned slowly, snapping at another strand of hair.

“Oh, stop it,” His hand flew up as the tug bloomed in a needle-sharp explosion of pain.

That one was on purpose.

Are you that smart?  He glared down at the bird.

“I could kill you if I wanted,”

If I wanted…

The Shrike sighed and fished around his pocket – the one that didn’t contain the lethal weapon unceremoniously chucked at him upon his entry…

It’s time to go.

He gritted his teeth as his fingers closed on a forgotten bag of broken crackers.

Is it worth it?  The snack had been given to him by someone at the reactors – one of many small tokens of appreciation for deterring any would-be saboteurs.

I’m so, so hungry…

He sighed, reluctantly opening the bag.

At least food was guaranteed at the power plant. 

He gritted his teeth as his fingers scraped the bottom of the bag, closing in on a few crumbled crackers.  He slowly extended the paltry offering to the goose.

“Truce?”