The Bread

The gentle sway of the ship masks Friend's careful footsteps as she waddles through the galley. Her golden-brown feathers catch the dim light filtering through the porthole while she surveys the cramped space. Wooden crates line the walls, their contents hidden beneath heavy lids that tower above her head.

A whiff of something catches her attention. Friend's head bobs forward, her beak leading the way toward a forgotten paper bag tucked behind some supplies. Inside, she discovers a thick slice of bread, its surface tinged an unappetizing shade of gray.

The bread's stale scent does nothing to deter her appetite. Friend pecks at the center, tearing through the softened middle with quick, decisive strikes. Crumbs scatter across the floor as she devours the bread's heart, leaving only the tougher outer ring.

Her hunger not quite satisfied, Friend attacks the crusty edge. She jabs at it repeatedly, but the stale bread refuses to break. In her determination, she pushes her head through the ring, trying to get a better angle. The bread slides down around her neck.

Friend freezes. She shakes her head, expecting the bread to fall away, but it stays firmly in place like an edible collar. Her movements become more frantic as she spins in circles, wings flapping in distress.

The chicken's desperate clucking echoes through the ship as she abandons the galley, racing across the deck in search of Shiro. She finds her captain at the helm, those familiar white strands of hair moving gently in the sea breeze.

Friend bumps against Shiro's leg, making urgent sounds of distress. The bread-collar bobs with each movement, a testament to her failed feast.

Shiro turns from the helm, her icy blue eyes falling on the spectacle before her. Friend stands at attention, the stale bread ring still firmly lodged around her neck like some bizarre fashion statement.

"That bread is from Caspia. Their aquaponic farms struggle. The wheat's probably contaminated."

Friend tilts her head, the bread bobbing with the motion. A few more desperate pecks at the crusty collar yield no results.

"Stop that." Shiro kneels down, reaching for the bread. Friend backs away, spinning in a circle that leaves her dizzy. The bread stays put. "Hold still."

The chicken darts between Shiro's legs, clucking in what sounds suspiciously like laughter. Her feet skitter across the deck as she evades capture, the bread bouncing with each step.

Shiro's expression doesn't change, but her movements become more determined. She lunges for Friend, who responds by ducking under a nearby crate. The bread catches on the edge, finally breaking free and scattering crumbs across the deck.

Friend emerges from her hiding spot, shaking out her feathers. She eyes the remaining pieces of bread with interest.

"Don't even think about it." Shiro sweeps the fragments overboard with her boot. "I'm not dealing with a sick bird."

Friend puffs up her chest feathers in indignation, her tail wagging in clear disagreement with this waste of perfectly good food. She struts away from Shiro, head held high as if wearing a bread collar had been her plan all along.