Honeyed Pasture you smoke crack, dontcha?

Pheasants. There were enough of them for a small hunt, but Ying was uninterested. She stopped beside a slate of rock and settled into a seat, nodding for her companion to do the same. Are you worrying? she asked, voice low so as to not disturb the birds' performance, Please, don't. You are one of my favorite secrets to protect. 

Most of her memories had been forcefully forgotten. Ying survived by distracting herself; in times of desperation, she was willing to do almost anything to avoid remembering the trauma. She shook the incoming thoughts from her mind and turned a grin toward her friend. Where is the otter? Ying asked, almost certain its remnants remained at the lake.