Silverlight Terrace and we keep trying

Wraen managed to stalk close enough to have a detailed image of the birds and lied down as well, withdrawing energy from her presence and pretending to be as disinterested as a rock might be. Except from the green eyes, which were carefully following every single bird of the small flock, observing their doings. 

They were small and pudgy, moving their heads in quick jerking like movements and pecking at the ground, which was visible, where the layer of snow was thinner than elsewhere. Now and then they would lift their heads, look around and the scurry away in that odd and funny way bird dwelling on the ground do. But, what stood out was their gurgling voices - the sound of flowing water came as the closest comparison.

Would now be a good time to catch one and have a closer look? Wraen slowly got to her feet and stalked sideways from the flock in that half-crouched manner a border collie herding sheep would do. The birds took notice of this change and gurgling in a choir, fled further. The aspiring hunter stopped, deep in thoughts, without noticing that there was a spectator to her show.