In the early morning I heard a distant noise of fumbling and sniffles. I followed it until I reached a hill that rose above the house and looked over the forest. The oldest Cherub I had seen, around 14 or 15 years old, was looming in the shadows, facing away from me. When I stepped closer I could see that he was stuffing mouthfuls of daisies into his mouth. I asked him, “what are you doing?” and in between sobs he replied: “I eat the pretty, I eat the good".