majorsilence

1. Whilst making his morning journey to the snowy hills, where the icy mountain water seeped forth from the ground and flowed downwards into the valley by diverse creeks and rivulets, our blessed Amicete happened across a wounded pigeon. Its wing bent in a form unimaginable, an archer's bolt fatally piercing its breast, the pigeon cooed in terror at the approaching Man.

2. "My precious pigeon!" cried Amicete as he dropped the empty waterbuckets and quickly crouched to the ground, examining the bird. "What mischief has run afoul?" The trees stirred behind him as the archer stepped into the open. "'Tis a trophy, m'lord!" he said proudly. But his voice quivered as he saw the flashing anger in Amicete's eyes.

3. Leaping with bloodthirsty passion toward the archer, he grasped him by the neck, strangling and leaving his body in the snow beside the dying pigeon. Thus follow the words of Amicete as he continued to carry his buckets into the hills:

4. "That was probably a mistake. Hmmm."

5. Amen.