(https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/8acf84a3-3552-4d4b-9394-8fd273e50e2c/dd9q1v7-9bcbdd9c-b462-439c-bf83-1f91071b0de4.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzhhY2Y4NGEzLTM1NTItNGQ0Yi05Mzk0LThmZDI3M2U1MGUyY1wvZGQ5cTF2Ny05YmNiZGQ5Yy1iNDYyLTQzOWMtYmY4My0xZjkxMDcxYjBkZTQucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.Vjcp5xFDzwCP6dQBexm6pp4J-qe_YKniSU65ugQCOVI)<br/><br/><strong>"Ah, yes, potatoes. The food of my people."</strong>He continues to chatter as he passes her more and more feathers even after she has already put two in her hair.<strong>"I remember many'a mornin' pullin' potatoes from'the fire an then puttin'em in'a bag or pockets, if I'd found a coat with pockets, an then warmin' yer hands with'em until they was cool enough to eat."</strong><br/><br/>He chuckles almost noatalgically, a wistful tone to his voice and eyes. Then it all falls apart to irritation as he as angrily starts to pull feathers free from the bird. He scowls and kind of throws a puff of feathers back towards the caravan as he scowls at the merchant.<strong>"Copper a day. Fuckers."</strong><br/><br/>His manner has turned dark again. He mutters to himself, pulling the last few feathers free. Down below, on the ground, his shadow twitches and pulses, warping around the edges as if boiling with emotion all on its own.<br/><br/>