She flew in through the door on  the rustling wind, choosing to recline by the mead cup and immediately began grooming.<br/>Her cholera laden hands rubbed together, back and forth like a comic book super villain.<br/><br/>She froze, pausing with gravity for a millisecond, she looked around.<br/><br/>All appeared well, perceiving no imminent threat she moved her hands to her head. Stroking and brushing bodily bristles, her beautiful metallic colors glistening in the afternoon sun as it streamed through the window.<br/><br/>After a second or two she switched positions, rubbing first one set of legs and then the next.  It felt so nice to rest and groom after having spent most of the day busy with that decaying carcass in the woods.<br/>