eachdraidh | o1. spider | audio; both courts.

I keep thinking of this story.

[ There's nothing particularly guarded about the way Natasha sounds. Lazy, maybe; a little mildly amused. ]

Once upon a time, there was a proud and warlike tsar— [ A short pause, then a correction. ] —a ruler. His name was Dadon. When he was young, he invaded and destroyed neighboring lands, taking them for his own. When he grew older Dadon wanted peace, but now his enemies sensed his weakness and it was their turn to wage war on him. He asked for help from his court magician, who gave him a golden cockerel. If any enemies approached, the bird would crow, and because the tsar was pleased he promised that he would give the magician anything he asked for.

Dadon's people lived peacefully for two years. The bird did its job whenever there was danger. One day, the golden bird cried out louder than ever before, so the man sent a great army under the command of his eldest son. Eight days passed. When the bird crowed again, his son and their army weren't back, so he sent out his younger son and another army. There was no news again for eight more days.

He was worried. The bird crowed again, so he went to go investigate this personally, with an army of his best warriors. After several days, he came across a battlefield where both armies and his two sons lay dead. At the edge of the field, he saw a tent with a woman of stunning beauty inside. Her name was—

[ A beat. ]

—you know, I don't think I remember. Her title, though, was the Queen of Shamakha. She invited him inside his tent and Dadon fell in love with her. He took her home, back to his kingdom.

When he did, the magician was waiting for him at the gates. He asked the tsar to pay for the golden bird by giving him the Queen of Shamakha. Angry with the request, Dadon hit the magician with his sword, wounding him fatally. At that moment the bird swooped down and pecked Tsar Dadon to death. And the Queen of Shamakha disappeared, as if she had never been there.

[ Natasha huffs out a laugh. ]

Sorry. Maybe that was too obvious a moral. [ And just like that, the audio abruptly ends. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ A short hum. ]

I don't know. Maybe he wanted to give his sons a chance. Maybe he was cruel.

I'm inclined to say the latter. Anyway, I'd trade you something, but all I know are dirty limericks I learned in the Army.

You really don't know any?

[ Come on, Steve. ]

Make something up for me.

[ Funny, how it echoes an earlier conversation. (Funny how it's different, now, too.) ]

Okay - but I can't take credit for this one, I just like it.

There's two wolves fighting inside of all of us. One's evil, made out of anger and greed and jealousy. The other wolf is good. It's love and happiness. Kindness.

Can you guess which wolf wins?

[ There's a smile in her voice when she speaks. ]

I think the hunter wins in that story, Steve.

Close. The wolf you feed, wins.

You know,

[ she says at last. ]

I think I expected you to shake your cane a little more during that story.

Yours? It's not one that I'd listen to for pleasure, but people seem to be taking some important lessons from it.

I meant yours.

[ Less wolves. More kids frolicking on a lawn. She hums a little, runs her tongue over her teeth and chooses to say something else instead.

Would you have sent your sons, Steve? Or gone yourself?

[ She isn't actually talking about theoretical sons. Unless that son is named Bucky Barnes. ]

I would've gone.

Of course, if they were my sons, they probably would've run off ahead of me anyway.