May The Gods Be With Me

The man with the beak pushed through the desert wind, his boots grinding along the sand.

His beak extended from his tan face around 12 inches, its color magnificent, exotic, like one of a beautiful bird.

He was not deemed beautiful. Cast out from his people and fed to nature. A six-shooter on his belt (that he knew not how to use), one bag of food in his pocket (which he dared not eat) and the cold bitter truth that he was not wanted in this world. This is all he has.

This night would be a long one.

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