It was a young sparrow. I didn't look like it could fly. Its feathers were matted.

I saw that it not faired well. It was at deaths' door. Could I help it? I saw it's eyes. It was on it's last breath.

I picked it up from the ground. I craddled it in my hands. It was cold. It was shivering.

I tried to warm it. I tried to tell it that it was ok.

I carried it home - but I was too late. The sparrow died. Then I ate it.

You were not too late in my book.

You may not have stopped the sparrow from dying, but your compassion helped it die with dignity. You kept it warm and you talked to it.

It was very kind of you, and it shows your honor!

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