"I'm glad you like my cooking," Taro was glad for the company, it seemed like forever since he had a genuine conversation with someone. Smiling as much as one could with a beak, he asked his guest, "So, what brings you out here?" The lake was far from any major cities, surrounded on all sides by dense woods, dotted with small towns. The tengu felt more at home in this pastoral, picturesque setting, away from the cramped, dirty conditions in the cities of his youth. He hated them, the overfilled gutter of human detritus. They reminded him of slaughterhouses, the cattle herded together, breathing one another's air, on the way to their deaths. Sometimes by his own hands. Taro realized he was clenching his hands into the fists, staring furiously into space. He rejoined reality with an embarrassed laugh, "Ha, oh, excuse me. I guess I've been working too hard lately."<br/><br/>Work. Taro had the distinct feeling he'd forgotten something...Oh, the clothes! Excusing himself, the tengu walked to the edge of the lake and dredged up the sopping duds. Making his way back to his camp, he hung them to dry over a low-hanging branch. He sat back down, and squawked at his guest, "Hey, don't eat all of it! That's my dinner too."