Sunset Valley When the Canary doesn't sing...

He listened intently, his warm ochre optics round with understanding as the mottled woman spoke. Though she didn't voice it, the way her words were phrased led the feathered brute to believe she was searching for a being, perhapse a mate, to 'cleanse her soul.' He himself wasn't participating in that type of quest, he was merely driven out by his own kin to wander the wilds. They had probably expected him to be killed off in the first few months of his independence and he smiled inwardly, pleased to have proven them wrong. Though, as he focused his attention back towards her, he could sense some kind of unnatural aura hanging in the air. "I do," he murmured, observing as she twisted her cranium round to gaze behind her before turning back to him. "Is this... why they thought you were possessed...? With a nervous glance down at his paws, he sat stock still, not wanting to make any movements that would upset the cloudy girl.