Bright sunbeams were playfully jumping on the surface of the lake at your legs, as if hundreds of tiny fish were exposing their scaly backs to the gentle rays. Just the thought whetted your appetite and made your beak water. Juicy, small creatures that always melt in your mouth...

The existence of a lake bird here has always seemed like a fairy tale. The water is teeming with food, there are plenty of shelters around to hide from the hated Weasel, the weather pampers you with frequent warm days - what more could you ask for? You never even think about complaining about life. Well, that is until rain starts.

You carefully lower your paws into the water, and then comfortably arrange your belly on the surface of the water, ready to go hunting, when suddenly...

"Hello everyone! My name is Leafie, I'm so glad to meet you!"

The loud sound of a strange, unfamiliar voice scares you, making you flinch. The feathers stick to your skin from surprise, you turn your head sharply in the direction of the yelling bird and see... A chicken.

What the hell? Shouldn't she be at the farm? What is a battered, domestic chicken doing in such a wilderness? This is nonsense. You've surely just gotten a sunstroke.

The bird hops merrily through the thick grass, plucks a flower and sticks it into the rare tail feathers, decorating them. She literally reeks of naivety...