Bramblepoint hooooo?

For the last several weeks, she had lived her life as a cameo in the lives of others. Owl was a thin, skulking creature that kept to the shadows— feigning deafness or simply darting away if she happened to be seen and acknowledged. It was easier to sense the monsters that hunted her, to hear the cracking booms that marked their arrival on her heels. She counted two, nearly three, moon cycles since she had last heard them... but Owl knew their cleverness, their cruelty, and did not allow herself to be comforted by the time elapsed. She remained alone, fearful that her brethren would become a distraction and that she would be lulled into slipping her defenses.

Still. It had been a long time.

Owl did not leave the area, for it was here that she felt safer than she had in a long while— but she would press more distance at the first sign of her pursuers. That wolf-song rang out in the nights was a good sign, she was willing to risk belief in. It meant that they felt secure in these lands, and perhaps someday she could, too. She watched them from afar, though kept herself too far removed to know intimately of their cultures or personalities— but she could see that life here was idyllic in comparison to her own. They squabbled amongst themselves, for there was no threat other than each other.

She moved through the brambles, investigating the buds that lined their branches, lowkey watching for a stranger she might consider speaking to. Maybe.