Blackfeather Woods I took the boy to hear an echo

the echoing thud, barely heard. his maw drapes all the way open as the bird calls again, but the sound is accusing, now. talons dig in to the callouses as the bird takes off, in the opposite direction of the offending Ramsay, and the man's head turns purposely toward the boy, movement slow and even. his gaze settles on the stunted one. his maw closes. ritual interupted, caught without the familar embrace of his shadows, the man only stares, dully, for a long moment. 

then he closes the distance with stiff grace, until only a few meters lay between them. the boy has gathered up all his attention. he pauses, stops, falls motionless. faded tongue slips between his fangs, his lips, and catches a feather stuck fast there. in silence, he draws it into his maw.