Dawn Treader Valley some people think it's a curse

there is a soft swell of relief that towhee feels as they are able to communicate, as rudimentary as it was.

she watches as he sniffs at the air, and understands the gesture: hunting. it was familiar to her, and besides that, as she lifts her own muzzle to sniff at the air, pushing past the ghost's scent twinged with metallic of blood, past the stranger's scent ...

and there. she scents it too. the scent of prey, faint but not too terribly far.

when he looks back at her, towhee offers him a sage nod, gesturing with her muzzle for him to take the lead.