Dawn Treader Valley some people think it's a curse

towhee watches as he waves his tail, judging the encouragement she reads in the action. her eyes narrow slightly, squinting at him for a moment, before it flickers back to the birds; drawing in a deep, quiet breath.

there was always a hesitance when she hunted, though when she was on her own she had no choice but to snuff it out. her deafness meant she was vulnerable, but that always felt heightened when she was hunting because she was so sniper focused upon her quarry.

still, she is not alone now. she has the sandman ( finally, she considers a name for him, even if it wasn't the greatest nor most original ) despite that he is a stranger.

she had ghost; mangled talon or not he was still capable of injuring.

she creeps forward, her desire to prove she was hyper independent winning out on her hesitancy, her muscles tensing beneath her pelage as she her gaze locks onto a bird.

a breath, a stutter of her heartbeat in her chest and she is rushing forward, timing it with sandman's own rush. she veers off, teeth snapping at tailfeathers as her bird zips left.