Habit has failed me and in doing so lost what little of my loyalty he had. Who amongst his rabbits wish to shed their fur for feathers? what do you say my dears, do you want to become my birds instead?
Two little vultures sitting in a tree, so still they may be taxidermy waiting, oh so very still waiting for me to make a kill so they may pick through the remains after I take what is worth my strains. The powerless vultures cannot kill alone but they may pick threw the bones, they can have what power I cannot hold but first they must do as they are told. First they must prove their loyalty, not as a rabbit, but to me.
Adam, a brown old vulture in the rain, Shivered below his wind-whipped olive-trees; Huddling sharp chin on scarred and scraggy knees, He moaned and mumbled to his darkening brain; ‘He was the grandest of them all—was Cain! ‘A lion laired in the hills, that none could tire; ‘Swift as a stag; a stallion of the plain, ‘Hungry and fierce with deeds of huge desire.’
Grimly he thought of Abel, soft and fair— A lover with disaster in his face, And scarlet blossom twisted in bright hair. ‘Afraid to fight; was murder more disgrace? … ‘God always hated Cain’ … He bowed his head— The gaunt wild man whose lovely sons were dead.