T/W: Foul Language
I glared back at the passing strangers. What do you want me to do? Fight the birds like some maniac? The next thing I needed was to have everyone on the internet know who I was, and assume I was some lunatic who went around stomping birds that blocked my way. People already had their phones pulled out, recording like that was how they expected it to unfold.
I clicked my tongue in annoyance, attempting to ignore them all and walk around the pair of birdiots. I didn't make it far before the stick-wielding crow hopped in front of me, blocking the stairs. It swung madly, as if I were the one who picked a fight with it.
Honestly, I was flabbergasted. I have no clue how to proceed from here. I was seriously debating whether or not I should actually fight a bird. I already didn't care about committing social suicide. Mulling it over, I heard a laugh from behind. A sound that vibrated through me, giving me both goosebumps and a sense of familiar warmth.
