It all started one day, when you two had only hatched (Cloud continued), when we were enjoying a beautiful morning. It was only the crack of dawn, but the camp seemed full of birds. Some took from the food hole, and others stretched out in the glistening morning sun. All seemed well until the clouds arrived. We had not received this type of weather in years, maybe even centuries. But now, it had come back. We all rushed back to our dens, hoping the black cloud would not reach us. Just then, we heard chirping. Some of us dared to look out, and we saw a truly confusing scene. There, right in front of us, were the Alpine Birds. “They’ve taken our land! Melted it! It’s all gone!” one of them wailed, “There’s no more snow for us to play in!” A few of the birds carried packs full to the brim with leaves and plants that smelled like cranberries, one of our delicacies. That’s when I noticed that the birds had fluffy collars around their necks, and random fluffy spots around their wings, tails, heads, and talons. They looked nothing like any of the birds I had ever seen. To the other birds in our tribe, it must have looked as confusing as I saw to them, since they were looking at the birds with confused faces. I even heard some of them suggesting to drive them out. Then, just as I was about to agree with the birds that said to drive them out, another one of us yelled out, “No! We can’t drive them out. They’re hurt! Just look at this one!” the bird shouted, pointing with his wing. We all inched in on the edge of our talons to see what he was pointing at. It turned out to be a chick with a bad wound that was deep and wide. It was really bad, our healer, Dew, pointed out. After seeing that chicks’ wound, we all changed our minds about driving them out. “It’s too precious,” Needle said, shaking her head, “We can’t afford to lose more birds,” she told me. “Agreed, it is too precious,” I agreed with him. “We’ve already lost half of our population because of humans,” Needle said, shaking his head. So after that, we accepted them in and taught them all the things they needed to know for survival. Happy ending, right? Wrong. Soon, another cloud of hazy smoke filled the air, and we had to duck for survival. “Oh, no!” cried one of the Alpine Birds, “Not again! They’re always doing this!” The smell of smoke filled the air, and we realized this wasn’t pollution this time. It was a fire. We all evacuated down the safety route that is now one of our main entrances
First: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/904722457/ Next: Previous: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/904728614/ Don't ask how the birds know what pollution is
