Snowforest Taiga arenyen

@Druid had gone home but heda was still wildly present. mireille was feeling the long stitch of homesickness, and decided it too was time to depart. she had been gone quite a long while.
but before she opted to go home, mireille brought njord to mind. the girl had not forgotten her offer, and so one morning she drifted away from the taiga, in the direction of home. 
when the caribou and their wolven hunters were specks behind her, the red child tilted back her head and called eagerly toward the sea for her da @Njord.

When she felt the presence of the ravens diminish, she took to the skies. Her wings hurt to open fully but she had to climb the drafts, finding a north-facing wind catching between the range and the singular mountain, which funnelled her quickly out along a ridge complete with red-leafed trees.

The open expanse was cold and full of eddies, sending the owl spiraling one way and then another, unable to fight the pull. It was a poor decision to try and fly in her condition: missing a tail-feather, with pieces pulled from her wing and stabbing pains in her back from the ravens.

She called out as the wind petered out, her shriek carrying across the plains; down she went, in to a patch of unbroken snow, which hit her hollow bones too hard. Once the snow settled, she was a black-barred puddle wedged in the ice.

Njord had spied a struggling winter owl and followed it as it descended – a shimmer of brilliant white in the sky. They were rare creatures and full of good omens. How and why was this one hurt?

The redtail moved at a good clip, tracking beneath her. Mireille called out then. “@Mireille! O’vr ‘ere!“ Njord howled back as he came upon the fallen creature a league away.

mireille stared as something fell from the sky into the snow.
njord's voice sent relief and delight shooting through her limbs. she joined him as soon as she was able, chuffing a greeting and then headbumping her da's shoulder.
the bright green eyes traveled to the bird in the snow, and widened. "what happened?" she exclaimed, sniffing gingerly toward the rich feathers. "will it be all right?"

Wings, tattered.

Red smeared across the elmbark of her feathers. Some were crooked; she knew she was in dire trouble.

The wolves paced nearby and called to one another, but the owl could do nothing - only stare, and then to shriek a warning.

Dein gut uv zu fen vey daar miin!

She did not know if they could understand her; sky-speak was rarely taught to grounders. The owl shifted and puffed as much as she could, wincing, and in obvious pain.