Page 130 (2/2)

Then, “Why not?”

“Because, e”

“Look, it’s no different from a chicken”

She retrieved the donut box She tore the paper into little strips She found an ancient newspaper and tore it up as well She found a wooden pallet and with a saw from the toolkit, and superhuman speed, she soon had a small pile of wood

It was unfortunate that none of the workmen had left ainst cement made sparks fly It was tedious work, but she soon had a fire going A cheerful little fire in the middle of the vast roof

And now there were two pigeons, dozing and cooing in their sleep One was gray, the other kind of pink

“Pink,” she decided

The chances of a regular kid catching them was close to zero But she was not a normal person She was the Breeze

The pigeon never had tiolf ball head She swung it hard, snapping its neck

Two minutes in the fire burned off most of the feathers Five minutes more and the bird burst open

That was the end of her patience She used the screwdriver to pry slivers of eon’s plump breast and pop them into her mouth

It had been weeks since she had tasted anything half as good

“The Breeze,” she said, squatting by her fire “Scourge of pigeons”

She lay back, savoring her meal

In a ure out how to escape this rooftop trap