Blackfeather Woods addict with a pen

They moved to the creek and when she dipped her head to drink, Mou did the same a second or two later. He heard her pause and thought he heard the fluttering of wings, but the boy was too distracted as he drank and drank and drank. The water was cold. It stung his throat but not as much as the plants had. It wasn't as refreshing as he'd hope though, more like a balm across an injury, stinging and helping at the same time. When he was done he lifted his head away from the creek, water dripping off his chin, and heard Maegi's warning. The bird responded with a little sound of its own, and the boy nodded, huffing softly. He would be more careful in the future — or that's what he vowed to himself, but who knows how well that would go.