Wapun Meadow waiting in my room, and i lock the door

it seemed her playmate possessed too trusting a temperament; or at least, that was astara’s view as she watched the girl’s expression morph from bewilderment and agony to something akin to cooperative trepidation. 

the blackbird smirked, and yanked her head (and prize) away. it would have been easy — too easy, in fact — to repay ibis’ faith in her with fangs instead, but astara had other designs. 

watchful as she drew around ibis’ flank, astara dropped the vole. her thin muzzle skimmed along the snow as she coursed new scents from within, all the while leaving ibis to collect the corpse if she so wished.