Your spotted wings flickered on your back as you, carefully, carefully chewed the leaves of a corn stalk. The chill of autumn tangled on your insectoid wings. It would be winter soon, you noted.

Graves had spotted you and, on his horse, rode up towards you. “ Damned locust.. “ He cursed, and the hooves of his horse alerted you.

“ The fuck are you doing, eh? Running me out of my money? “ He hissed, taking his hat and moving it to the side to see you better as he spat on the ground.