for gold and glory

She was upset. Angry. Sad. Hurt. Confused. And so many other things. She slumped to the ground, rump hitting the dirt a bit too hard as she sniffed back the tears that threatened to come. “Okay, you do realize you attacked me, right?” Medusa looked at the ground as the bird began to speak. “I woke up to my tree shaking. Then I saw you, and you demanded my treasures and a piece of my body. You tell me: does that sound nice or mean?”

She thought about it for a few moments. Ears twitching as she did so. Was she the one being mean to the pretty blue bird? She saw something she thought was pretty, and she wanted it. How else was she supposed to get it? "Mean...?" She said almost quietly, though as a question as she slowly looked up like a puppy that had gotten in trouble. "Medusa thought they were pretty, so Medusa wanted them! How else does Medusa get nice things?" A serious question in her head of course.

"Speech"