Jade Fern Grove the broken, beating heart

The sharp, pointed tones of his own kind stopped the man in his tracks. Byleth raised his head up over one of his steep shoulders, eyes seeking the source. He knew he probably looked a fool, with moss on his lip, but he couldn’t resist a call.

His eyes fell upon a woman, dark in tones and splotched with whites. He fanned his tail, a subtle greeting he could do without losing his grip on his precious moss. Only for him to sit it at his feet a second later.

Do you lay claim to this place? He asked, rueful to admit he hadn’t even tried smelling to see if others inhabited here before he settled for the night.