Gyrfalcon's Keep did you really think

vague about yuelong things. for @Natshana. tagging renard for reference!

the birds — gyrfalcons, though praimfaya does not know that they are called that — are boisterous. they screech out; to one another, to her in warning from their bird poop splattered ledges of rocks where their nests sit. priamfaya, whom is fine down on the flat earth and has no desire to go after their nests, finds it annoying …but thinks that she understands. in a way, she is an intruder in the gyrfalcon’s lands. if the tables were turned …the commander wouldn’t be so passive but that, she supposed, was the difference between predator and prey.

their screeching continues for a bit longer before it dies off as the sun begins to sink below the horizon, glittering off the calm sea. she tells @Renard she’s going to do a bit of scouting, to be sure they weren’t tracked ( though she does not think this is a case, still she does not wish to assume ). a bit of a break, she specifies to her companion, from the grit of sand. maybe a bath if she can find a freshwater source untainted by it ( she doubts it but a girl can dream ).

she is not a beast made to be idle and the routine of a scouting patrol, though she has seen enough evidence by now to safety make the assumption that either donovan didn’t care or he didn’t think renard and her were much of a threat to send anyone after. maybe, she thinks, he hadn’t even noticed. she pauses as a rabbit scent trail catches her attention, leading towards what sounds like the babbling of a small brook. she isn’t confident it’ll be enough to bathe in but if it could get rid of at least some of the sand that sticks to her silverlit pelage well… she wouldn’t complain.

surprised that the rabbit hadn’t been snatched by the birds overhead, she follows the trail only to let out a low grumble of annoyance when she finds its half-eaten carcass. of course. she sniffs at it disdainfully before continuing on to the brook. it’s shallow and small, barely making a dent thru the small pebble bed it tricks down. suitable for a drink but not for a bath. resigning herself to this new sandy lifestyle ( for however long they’re on the coast ), praimfaya bows her head and laps at the cool, fresh water.