Shadewood let not light see my black and deep desires

he was comfortable, tucked into a squirrel hole on the elm they first departed for the wilds from. the spectral caw of his certainly-dead sibling startled him into hitting his head against the ceiling.

yonder made small whimpering sounds, wings covering his hurting dome, as the syllables of his name carried trough the shadewood.

it was with strong disgruntlement, and well-concealed relief, that he answered back.

"what."