Blackfeather Woods ticking away the moments that make up a dull day

astara half-expected a strike, but none came; maegi had glanced at the bird she protected, and then turned her back to the night-cub. with a churlish interest astara watched her silently, gauging from the manner in which maegi rifled through the cache-stockpile that she was looking for something.

maegi's hot inquiry was left unanswered; whether it was out of indolence, indifference, or lack of understanding was not clear. astara had never spoken in her life -- while she possessed a tongue, she did not possess the means to command it. relmyna had been silent in the girl's nascent stage of learning, and all astara had developed was a keen understanding of body language.

she did not miss the scowl maegi gave when she glanced over her shoulder: it was returned with an ugly grimace, the way a child might face-mock its mother by disfiguring their face. yet she could not stifle the curiosity she had for what maegi was looking for, and at length forgot all about the bird in favor of nosing the cache alongside the pale girl.