Blackfeather Woods He's the one who left home; I'm the one who stayed

long after he'd left sequoia to her fate, cormorant thought about the pale woman. he'd helped her, as he'd said he would, but somehow he still felt as if he'd been dishonest. perhaps not with her, but with himself. he didn't quite understand it yet, and a large part of him simply didn't care to.

funny, then, that he should stumble across another wounded bird. he didn't know it at first, though. all he saw was a pair of gleaming yellow eyes, luminescent among the shadowy recesses of a bush. the scent told him all he needed to know.

there are more comfortable places to sleep than a bush, cormorant called, wondering what he was getting himself into this time. he still hadn't caught on to the mysterious bush-wolf's wounded state.