Bearclaw Valley like phony clothes, but i really like my

an ear canted back at the exhale, but true to form astara made no comment. her nose held most of her attention -- or specifically, the scent that lingered within it.

mushrooms? she had never had much interest in those dank and tepid things; they smelled of decay and ruin to her, and so, she had largely avoided them.

here the earth was musty, holding but a faint scent. she raked the damp earth with her claw as phoebe had done before. where had she seen mushrooms?

the birchwood. astara was off in a pantherine prowl -- not so far from tumbleview was a felled birch that had hundreds of little fungi-heads sprouting along its collapsed flanks. astara had never paid the thing any mind, but if it was what enthralled the darkling bird's attention, astara would lead her to it.