Dragoncrest Cliffs holy fire, blessed waters

mireille counted to herself.
she'd found a series of feathers from some downed bird; she had collected them. they were tall feathers, stiffened with salt and pale. gulls, perhaps. 
but mireille chose to believe that some great white eagle had left them.
she hummed to herself as she stored the discoveries near the rendezvous. it was by pure sheer delightful luck that she too veered toward the tangle, looking for a particular sort of red briars. but it was druid she found, and for a moment she stood surprised. "you be comin' all dis way again?" she asked incredulously, though with no small amount of pleasure apparent on her crimson features.