Kintla Flatlands and you always knew the way to bring me down

@Whip is this territory ok i am lost pls send help and buffalo wild wings takeout

a grouse rustled in the thicket, its serpentine neck canting in rhythm with each bawdy step -- for a bird doused in muted tones, it did little to conceal itself within the winter-weary and dull landscape.

indra had watched it for some time, her lithe form pressed to the ground and thin stomach tucked from the cold embrace of the frozen earth. the fluttering thing had first garnered her attention when it strolled boldly across her peripherals -- either the bird was simply witless, or it cared little for a predator's presence. indra had followed from a distance into a threadbare and vinegnarled copse, where the bird quit its pacing and settled into a trilling and jovial rhythm. she watched as it turned its conical head sideways, alerted to some distant call in the sunspeckled grove.

if indra was a skilled killer, she would have known it was then she should have struck; instead, she was mesmerized by the rhythmic sway of its tufted skull and the funky, deliberate bob of each slender leg as it furled and fanned its dusky plumage in a baffling metronome known only by itself and possibly others of its kind.

perhaps the redleaf was skinny for a reason -- because she often preferred to study her meals over consume them.