Do you know what happens when chickens cross roads?

It's true, there's nothing for it. Jael was already on edge, even the rational parts of her head wouldn't work here. Flinching at the look from Modesty, she tries not to be shaken too far out of her head by it. While she should know better, sometimes it's hard to block out the mean voice in her head. Jael doesn't think about it too hard. She can't. If she gets stuck on one thought for too long, if she gets stuck in her own head, that's dangerous too. It's too dangerous. Keep her head down, keep focused, keep moving.

As the others set about collecting hens, Jael moves to the individually caged roosters. A handful of them, each with a different coat of feathers and demeanor. Three, all looking equally ornery. A soft groan to herself as she pokes at them through the bars, a little manual encouragement for the birds to stand so she can get a better look at them. With a deep sigh, Jael realizes that the most ornery looking one will be the one she needs to bring back. The others are too dense, too heavy, have too many feathers. Isn't that her luck?

Of course this is well built, permanent housing she can't just pick up and bring. No, that would also be too easy. While she has the bag ready to grab the bird the moment she pops the latch, she isn't able to wrangle the creature before it rakes a talon across her muzzle. She yelps, whimpers, the sting of tears in her eyes involuntary. Taking a deep breath and securing the bag, the rooster already squirming and seething.

Bloody slash across her face, she sets the writing sack down in the basket that awaited the hens. Tense and ready, she could help collect any strays that tried to pass Gil on the side.

“Speech.”