Work Text:
When little Rune saw the bird, lying on the ground with a broken wing, the first thing she did was pick up a nearby twig.
She poked the bird with it, drawing a wailing chirp from it. She did it again and again, harder each time, until the sharp end pierced the bird’s body, drawing blood as it squirmed futilely.
For the first time, she understood the smiles other children had when they played with their dolls or blocks. The corners of her mouth lifted, she continued skewering the bird’s body all over, until its wailing ceased, blood-covered body unmoving.