Scales. The answer is scales. Of course.
Kath had had this conversation many times over, with various people she had encountered. She was always insistent that scales would obviously be the correct answer.
Because it was, but still.
She knew she couldn't truly trust those who answered feathers. They were clearly delusional.
"Why feathers, though?" She turned to ask. He had stopped walking, and turned to face the side of the street. There was a noise in the bushes, a small rustling sound she hadn't picked up on until now.
Ladder-boy was bent over the bush, trying to locate the source of the noise. Kath made an effort not to focus on a small rip in his jeans, which had opened up near the top of his left back pocket.
Oscar turned to Kath with a small fledgling in his hands, which had only developed a few of it's flight feathers.
"It's a baby sparrow, look!" Oscar shoved the tiny creature near enough to her face that she could have licked it. Had she felt the need. Which she really didn't. Instead, Kath took a step back.
"You shouldn't touch it, Oscar. Put it back so it's parents can find it". Kath had attempted to save many creatures before in her youth. None had gone down well. Kath had learned the hard way that nature sometimes had its own way of going about things.
Like the attempted rescue of the starling.
Or her parents.
