Blackfeather Woods Seems I deal with things a bit differently.

When the truth comes it doesn't feel right, it doesn't sound familiar, but he can't deny it either. His mind flares with what he does remember — the images of shadows made of feathers, of a red-tailed hawk slowly blackening. These images had confused and frightened him for so long but maybe, if she was telling the truth, they were more than just fantasies produced by his medicine. Maybe he was chasing something more than just the high — but this was the most frightening discovery, and he couldn't help but resist it. Mou shook his head slowly, then sharply, and fixed his attention upon the girl with a glare.

Nn... You.. He is agitated and defensive and afraid, all of it written clearly across his face, but she has her own truths written across her's as well. A conviction. She isn't lying. He wanted answers and now he's fighting against those answers — but Mou has to decide to trust what she's saying, signing, whatever, even if it doesn't make sense.

His jaw clenches and he looks at the dirt, his good eye moving frantically, trying to make sense, to justify, all of it.

Redhawk. He repeats. There is no recognition but he looks at her suddenly, as if to study her instead, to gauge how he should react or maybe just to find something to root himself upon. Everything seems to be spinning inside of him.

He thinks of Seelie and the recognition that she held too, but she called him something else, she had said, Teamous. But it didn't mean anything to him either; maybe it meant something to his patient.