Redtail Rise XIX

There was some evidence of the what had happened long ago. Some of the wood that she saw within the forest was quite visibly scarred and beyond repair; hard to believe that the orange flower did not have talons or claws, the way the burnmarks cut and slash into the mighty trunks belly. But there had been much regrowth, the earth still cumbersome and fertile for this places rebirth.

Birds nearby flit to catch some of the furs the wind sent rolling. Sunday watched them for a beat, ear cupping toward her man when he chuffed to her. And when she looked to him, Sunday Morning knew he had found some prize. Her eyes warmed with the same affection as she moseyed toward him, thanking him with several sweeping kisses and waves of her tail.

She settled some of her weight onto her hinds as she began to excavate what part of it was beneath the earth thanks to time or perhaps some storm. Not much work to be done there, most of it exposed, and once she finished Sunday Morning moved to claim it between her teeth. But she looked back to the pelvis, and then Mountain Boulder, a questioning note coming forth. What did he make of it?