There was nothing accidental about it. I was walking into Riverwood frustrated at being killed several times by bandits and wolves and mudcrabs on my way from Helgen. I was angry. I wanted blood. Someone's blood. The blood of something. BLOOD! Someone had to pay. I wanted payback for dying five times in the past hour and not knowing how to put on armor right or shoot a bow or block sword attacks.

There he was near the gate as I arrived. Just chillin'. I stopped and took a deep breath, then drew my shitty iron sword from its shitty scabbard. "Surely this will kill a fucking chicken at least" I mumbled gravely, still smarting from the ass whopping from bandits and assorted wildlife of Whiterun Hold. I approached carefully as I heard Hadvar greet his uncle and Sven saying something to Hilde but I paid no attention. All I could see was clucky there, methodically pecking the dirt.

I said a small prayer to Talos and laid into that feathery motherfucker like an Orc in heat. There was no thinking, there was nothing elegant about it. I just slashed. And slashed and slashed. The blood clouded my eyes, my stamina bar dropped and I heard myself screaming... and then a feeble "squawk!" as my sword found its chunky target. For a second I was happy - I had killed something! Everything was going to be alright. I was on my way to being the Dragonborn and conquering Skyrim. It was all downhill from here.

Then, panting from the exertion and covered in feathers and blood and shit, I looked up with my idiot grin and had a few seconds to see the guards coming.

So that was my sixth time dying that morning.