Bearclaw Valley my isle of golden dreams

as the male flitted about like a crow indra watched him, content as he returned with a hare. the redleaf made one last pause, scanning their environ carefully with all faculties: ears, eyes, nose -- no intruder or lingerer remained, and she was content to leave after the wisplike male.

he mentioned an adventure and indra's chest fluttered -- it sounded promising, but should she? should she really leave? guilt wrought its thick tendrils around her confidence and she slowed, though she kept in line behind his sunken pawprints as she watched his sooty form bob ahead. "what kind of adventure?" she finally called, rallying up the abandon to set after him at a sweeping canter.