Wheeling Gull Isle whispers sloth, through curls of smoke

so many new faces to learn, when accipitra’s eyes were so small they could barely behold them. shadows and movement flit the edge of her vision as one would-be sibling left the den. 

the others jostled around her. she was faintly aware of her surrogate dam somewhere behind her. two faces swam into view, larger than those of her siblings — their dinnerplate eyes leaving trails of cometdust in her vision. 

accipitra knew little of the words Simeon spoke, but her head snapped up to peer at his aerial face, a coo bursting from her little lips as he and Judah’s visages swam together.