There was one goal in Amorette's mind. To have the fanciest and biggest hoard of treasure she could fit into her bedroom. She had made her way to the fields, her pouch dutifully slung across her neck and bumping gently on her chest with each step. It was hard to keep her in one place for long, especially when the whispers of antiques spread amongst the streets. Though what was considered an antique to her was a loose definition at best. What was the saying? One man's junk was another man's treasure? She lived and breathed that motto. And indeed her mission today was likely junk in a commoners' eye although maybe it would be considered a brief moment of 'awesome' in the mind of a child. She had heard that these fields only flourished due to the discarded bones underneath, and so once she finds a decent spot she puts down her pouch and begins to prick her talons into the earth, ignoring the weeping of the roots as she tore up anything in her way.

Antares

"Speech"