Noctisardor Bypass somiyon

witch regained her footing, following heda to the shore— her trophy wing in tow, tail aloft and triumphant. they were both soaking wet, washing the dappled child in a bloodied pink, her gray muzzle still slick and dark with the bird's blood. feathers caught there, but the child felt no need to clean it just yet.

you're good, she offered her densister as she dropped the wing, stepping a gray paw atop of it, protectively. not from heda, who cradled the remaining kill, but from others that might wish to take it from her. she was eager to return to her private den in the rendezvous site— to store it there, where it would be safe— but she and heda had not had a private moment like this.

do you and dru practice? she wanted to know, though there was no trace of jealousy there.