Dragoncrest Cliffs the heart grows brutal from feeding on fantasies

The moment Wildfire mentions Blackfeather Woods, she blinks a few times to process the information. It makes sense, at least. About the time she returned from one visit of the caldera, the bird showed up. It hadn’t made itself known at first but she remembers a slight distraction of a bird here and there and she assumes it to be the same. Immediately—albeit not necessarily confirmed—she feels better. It had been a trick all along and now that the war is over, they have little to worry about from those wolves. The bird hadn’t gotten any significant information except where they were—maybe it is why the war went the way it did and they knew where they were—but she does not question it more than necessary. Maybe the bad omen isn’t true, after all.

“It spoke in a riddle, I think,” she says, pausing to lick her lips and recollect. Then she repeats as closely as she can of the stanza spoken by the bird with added emphasis to “the mother is the one to die/when comes the cub of lord and stone/Commander is left all alone.” She becomes quiet for a few seconds and considers the words, her expression still worried despite the comfort the bird comes from Blackfeather Woods, on the off chance it doesn’t. Wildfire had been in the safety of their troops when the bird came to her, threatening her mate, but surely the timing is off, or another plan failed on their end. Either way, if anyone can give her comfort (even if it’s temporary), it’s her mate.