Morningside Cuesta Hunt for who we've not yet become

"More or less," Grayday agreed, answering Kieran's question about the scent of birds. "As you get older, you'll start to be able to tell what kind of bird it is by it's scent, but all birds smell like feathers, and this is the feather-smell you're getting, here."

It was a highly addictive smell, in Day's opinion. He could spend hours rolling around in turkey feathers, breathing in that strange, dusty smell. Sometimes he wondered why, since the meat wasn't the best-tasting or the most filling. He supposed it was just one of those mysteries. One of the best parts of catching birds was playing with the feathers.

"Let's see if you can follow this trail," he suggested, glancing toward Sylvas to make sure this was okay. On second thought, he fell back a bit, wanting Sylvas to take the lead. It was only natural, since it was the other man's son that was accompanying them. Day merely kept pace with them, keeping his eyes peeled for any signs of movement. He'd like for Kieran to try his teeth at hunting, but that didn't mean he'd let dinner get away from them.