The Sunspire she was givin' them

Magpie's green eyes watched the dominant male move through the clearing, defiance burning bright inside them. She continued to chew the tall grass quite pointedly, as if to prove to him that she didn't need his help to eat. Chomp, chomp, chomp, she gnawed at the grass as noisily as she could. I can chew my own food, see? If she had still been home, amongst the Corvidae, she would have been brought along to hunts and taught the way of the wolf, rather than have food vomited back up in front of her as if that were still the most appetizing way to dine.

Her gaze still remained impassive as he rolled two objects toward her in sort of an awkward shuffle-dance, and she stopped chewing the grass to look down at them. She knew birds lay eggs, but she had never really understood what they were, or how delicately they must be handled. Although she didn't understand she was meant to eat them, her curiosity was ignited, and she tapped one with a paw as the male mentioned something about eating — too hard, for it burst into a gooey mess. She wrinkled her nose, startled, and looked at Ferdie. Eat this? Magpie couldn't imagine.

He was laying down, now, and despite the mess she had just made, Magpie's ears perked at the mention of a story. After a moment, she laid down with some distance between herself, and both the eggs and Ferdie. She began to groom the egg yolk from her paw, pretending to be intensely focused on the task, but her ears remained tuned to his voice.