Hideaway Strath all great and precious things are lonely.

Figment was once again up before the sun that day. It hadn’t been his intention to awaken so early, but the insistent chirping and singing of birds refused to go without some audience that morning. Fig stayed on the ground, stretched out comfortably with his head resting between two paws. He listen to short bursts of repeated chirps, a sweet two note lilting, a bright, clear, piercing trill, all ringing through the trees together. Like a little symphony, just for the strath.

It reminded him of being here as a child, which was a comforting and lonely feeling. The terrible avalanche that had once blocked the path to the valley had eroded enough for him to safely traverse, but the memory of what had happened here lingered. He pushed it away for happier ones—learning to hunt with @Phox, sparring with Dingo, playing with @Fennec and being tucked in warm and safe at night against @Towhee.

And when those memories turned on Fig and lead him to remorse and longing, he turned his attention back to the birds and began to count just how many different musicians were playing in the orchestra.