Blackfeather Woods a light above descending, below a dark ascending

She was beckoned by the motions. Unable to say why.

It moved, branch to branch. Its pale coloration hid it well but a trained eye stayed fixed upon its movement. Some part of her could not help but be transfixed by the idea that the bird was a sign from her mother.

As if a piece of her was here, with her, in these cursed woods.