Hoshor Plains Well, I've been fucking up since '94

Liri nodded, sensing something was held back but did not inquire into the concealed matter. Gods knew she had enough secrets to fill several dusty, leather-bound tomes. 

"Ah, I see. Has it been all that you expected? The chance to spread your wings?" 

Her gaze tightened imperceptibly, recalling the deformation and loss of her hindleg. "Aye, but some tales are best left unspoken," the scarred sylph murmured in gentle warning, unashamed and unoffended of her past. It was polite caution for the dark and cheerful little blackbird. Liri's story was a most unhappy and dark yarn in the tapestry of time. 

"Hoshor," she corrected, not unkindly, with a slight smile. 

Dark eyes shifted to the side, her chin jerking marginally as if to point out the formations of buffalo wallows upon the ground. 

"Story goes that this place was once home to a vast sea of bison. A herd so huge it was immeasurable by our kind. Those divots are where they used to roll on the ground. Only about fifty-head remain now," she divested.