The sun baked the sand scorching hot.
It was time for the daily "fry time."
On the cliff, hundreds of white figures had already gathered. This was no longer the simple foraging trip it had been at first; it had evolved into a solemn, ritualistic group event.
Piping hot fries were placed in ten designated wooden platters, their aroma drifting up the cliff on the sea breeze and tantalizing the taste buds of every Big Thief Gull.
But today, something had changed.
The few bipeds who delivered the fries didn't retreat immediately as they usually did. They backed off to more than fifty meters away and just stood there, neither approaching nor leaving.
"The situation's changed! The bipeds haven't withdrawn!"
"It's a trap! I knew it!"
The cliff descended into chaos. The younger gulls paced anxiously, restlessly flapping their wings. Their stomachs were growling, but the motionless figures in the distance kept them on high alert.
"Quiet!"
