Moonspear I scorn their hatred, if they do but fear me

When he moves, it's slow and tired— resigned to life and its inevitabilities. Ness understood the motions if only because she'd seen it many times in Deadfall. It had that name for a reason; and she wondered briefly if someone had died. Sliding down to her elbows, she held the bird neatly between her forepaws and began to artfully pluck her meal. She kept her eyes on her task, unwilling to look at Charon's disconsolate face, lest his woebegone mood taint her night completely. An ear twitched faintly at his words, but this made her look up at him, jaw slack and mis-matched eyes flashing alertly.

"What?" she spat feathers. That wasn't true!— but how could it not be, coming from Charon's mouth? Ness frowned, finding herself captured by his mood anyway, but she swallowed it definitively. She had willingly left her own people after all. Wasn't this just a way of life? "Why?" she asked, hoping that the quieter she talked, the less bitter she would sound.