My best bet is to head right into town, where my mates will be reluctant to cause a ruckus. I mourn the loss of that handbag for a single awful second. Okay, I know they’re unhinged, but seriously? I need to move faster. Snapping my beak and swearing bloody murder, I clear the forest and come to the main road that leads up to town. The road becomes a bridge where, underneath, travels a slow-moving river, bordered by tall eucalypts and red bottle brushes.
