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Post by Little John on Mar 7, 2007 19:02:54 GMT -5
Alba flew above the sands of the desert, looking for something to eat. He lept down on a small Ratatta and ate it. "A little too juicy," he whispered.
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Post by wynnyelle on Mar 9, 2007 17:47:16 GMT -5
It was nighttime. The murkrow flew over the dark desert, seeking the bounty of prey that had already fallen.
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Post by Little John on Mar 9, 2007 17:56:00 GMT -5
Alba saw the Murkrow flying over the desert. "This is my prey, you can't have it."
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Post by wynnyelle on Mar 9, 2007 18:13:35 GMT -5
The murkrow continued to circle, hoping that there would be some leftovers.
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Post by Little John on Mar 9, 2007 19:38:42 GMT -5
Just so he could, he swallowed it whole. "There, no more leftovers."
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Post by wynnyelle on Mar 9, 2007 20:06:28 GMT -5
" Aye, a spoilsport eh?" cackled the murkrow, who circled down and landed. He looked for any leftovers, but there were none. " Drats."
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Post by Little John on Mar 9, 2007 20:32:21 GMT -5
"Yeah, I never leave scraps." Alba thought of the first time he had left scraps. Murkrows had almost killed him then. He shuddered.
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Post by wynnyelle on Mar 9, 2007 21:06:07 GMT -5
" Weelllll I shall be off then. Ta-ta." The murkrow spread his black wings and flapped off into the cool desert night.
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Post by Little John on Mar 9, 2007 21:32:59 GMT -5
Alba sat on his own cactus, thinking of the night that he had los his family. The Mightenyas had come by and ate his parents. His sister had fleeded, never to return.
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