Barrow Fields these are the last blues we're ever gonna have.

Artaax was disoriented as he tried to untangle himself from the female. He too stumbled as he righted himself, falling forward and nearly dropping back down into the snow. After a few seconds, he finally got back onto all fours and gave his coat a good shake, licking his lips as he looked eagerly around. He could hear the female's annoyance in her grumbling, but he didn't really care very much. It was her own stupid fault, in his opinion. Fortunately, he didn't consider his reasoning all the way through as he would otherwise have realized he had no basis for for blaming her. He was distracted instead by relocating the eagles as he had no intention of giving up the hunt just because he crashed into some random girl.

One of the birds flew high overhead, sweeping across the sky like a vulture. The other had resettled on the kill, though the fluff of its feathers told him it hadn't dropped its guard yet. Frustrated, he glared at the female, growling low at her as a warning to be quiet.