Eileen

“As Lorn approached the booth, a man holding a black chicken wrapped in a sumptuous, teal-silk shawl stepped up to the front of the line. “It’s Endora, you see,” the man said to Maddox, gesturing with his chin to the chicken. “She has a sensitive disposition.” Endora clucked pitifully. “And the Lunar Crossing stresses her enormously.” Endora clucked in agreement. “Understandable,” Maddox murmured with a straight face. The man patted Endora. “So … where would be the best place to put her during this time, keeping in mind she doesn’t like drafts, loud noises, other animals—particularly yaks—any rhythmic movement that could be construed as folk dancing, the smell of cooked fat, the color magenta, or any musical or theatrical performance that requires audience participation?” Lorn looked down at Endora. “This is clearly a chicken of exquisite taste and refinement”
― L.L. Starling, Between