Bearclaw Valley my god, my god, why have you forsaken me?

steals this at the speed of sound

Sif's depature has caused her some measure of indecision. She understands and supports the girl's decision to leave, but... a part of her thinks, perhaps i ought to follow. Would Sif... would Sif allow her to follow, she wonders, or would her presence only continue to strain her burgeoning sense of identity? Leaving to follow Sif also means leaving Wardruna, although between the two she finds her loyalty is pulled more to her clay-colored sister-wife than her husband (yet leaving also means leaving Blondine and Phocion and Indra, who she has come to think of in fond terms...)

Fretting, Poet finds herself by the mouth of the valley. Her thoughts are distraction enough as such that it takes time for her to fully notice the overwhelming hum of wind and machinery. But once aware, it is all she can hear, the unnatural beating of manmade wings. What are those things, she wonders, feeling fear crep into her: omens, portents, symbols, but worse, because she has no words for what they are. Big metal birds.

She's found herself near enough to see Venninne in her usual spot, and though she's never sought the girl for company, now she turns to look up at her, her first instinct to gauge their guardian's reaction: whatever world-ending beasts have descended upon them, perhaps the wolfdog will know better how to handle it than she, made of only poetry and prophecy.