Blackfeather Woods my star has left me to take the bitter pill

He wasn't a Melonii. His claim to the forest was limited if that was a prerequisite. But as Titmouse perused the slanting shadows, hunting through the overgrowth for something to present to his beloved (or something impressive to show off to her brother), he was surprised to notice the familiar shape of the girl. She wasn't so much a child anymore — too thin, he thought, and all legs. Gaunt; the winter must have been harder on the woodland than he thought. It made him feel intensely guilty for leaving.

The thing that stuck out the most was the strange shape around her neck; it was bleached like bone but darker, sullied by dirt and whatever remained of the animal it once was. Titmouse thought it was an odd look, but didn't question it as he slipped closer and closer - having adapted to the forest since returning to it. But the closer he got the stranger he felt. He thought he heard a whispered voice in the wind - but when he paused to look around, trying to fix his one good eye on the culprit, there was nobody.

Just Titmouse - and the girl, with her adornment.

He chuffed softly and turned back towards her, following deftly with his quick strides. As he closed the distance he slowed, relaxed his posture - tried to seem inviting. The last time he'd found this girl she had been less than enthusiastic, and he didn't want to disturb her too much.