Bramblepoint the graveyard, the turnaround, it changed in you somehow

 @Kotake

she sat over the small thing with a paw held out, as if fearful of touching it. it was a bird she had never seen before, with vacant and reflectionless eyes and its wings splayed outwards in a fan amongst the briars and earth. for some reason she felt it an insult to see the dirt embrace it, as if it belonged only among the shifting strands of cotton-white cirrus with its back against a byzantine and endless sky.

it was so little against the dark earth she was afraid the ground might swallow it -- black pinion feathers and fragile, delicately curled little limbs all. it may have been a finch, but whatever it was it was no longer -- with a sigh indra left the gnarled place it had fallen and continued down the broad swath of naked stalks and winter-worn brambles.