"Er ... Icham, do I want to know what you're doing?"

Icham paused in his activity and looked at Sylver.

"Well, Poynt banned the white winter pelt on anyone except himself. Wants to feel he's special. As an outlaw, I feel itís my duty to break laws I consider ridiculous. Sadly I was hindered somewhat by the fact that weasels donít turn white naturally."

Sylver stared at Icham, who had resumed smearing the white powder over himself, and held his nose.

"I suppose I can understand that, but couldnít you use chalk or something? Bird droppings are ... rather antisocial."


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