From behind a lush tree, bearing many forms of fruit, Erä stepped into the nurturing sun.
'Tavon, We need to speak.' 
He opened his claw like hand, and gold coins fell on the grass before the Crop God. 
'This is an insult. I refuse to award any mortal, worthy or not, with such a symbol of decadence!'
From the forests, far away, flocks of birds flew up in distress.
When a God dislikes, he hates.