Barrow Fields Arsonist's Lullabye

Grackle's notched ear flicked as though swishing away an irritating fly, the only physical expression of her annoyance. Did he find her suspicion amusing?

She continued to scan the surroundings, nose alert for any signs of his concealed companions. It wouldn't be long before their scent betrayed them.

Is that so? She asked, calling up to the russet man, who she now noticed had settled himself down quite comfortably. It was hard for her to decide what grated on her nerves more: his sarcasm or his brazen demeanor. With a measured step forward, she examined him, maintaining a careful distance.

What brings you out here? She inquired, her vision darting across the landscape again but revealing no hidden accomplices. So he really was telling the truth.
Bucktooth bitch.