Redhawk Caldera a knot in the wood; the song of a thrush

The ice crystals fell. Not heavy enough to leave a sound. But she imagined if they had been. They'd have made a lovely plinking sound.

A nickname. She smiled at that. Noone had ever called her Mal. She'd gotten Ama and Lia. A shrig of shoulders.

I was just walking and wanted a change of sceenery. I hope I didn't disturb you?.

A sweep of inky plume, brown tip a blur as she moved it.