Bearclaw Valley to go, to run, to go, to run

Birds were friends? Ameline didn't necessarily see it the same way- birds could be eaten, if they could be caught- but she supposed the little songbirds, the ones most capable of being friends, she guessed- were too difficult to catch, and she assumed that Athalia liked the sounds that they made. She smiled. "They thing, too," She said. Some better than others, of course- she would take the warbling of a sparrow over the raucous calls of a raven anyday. 

The girl wanted explanations, so Ameline settled down to explain. "Birdth don't have thick fur, like we do. Winter'th too cold for thome of 'em. The oneth that eat bugth leave 'cause there'th no bugth in wintuh." At least, as far as she could figure. "Thome of 'em live on water, tho they have to fly Thouth to find water that ithn't frothen." That could explain the ducks and geese, at least. 

"Anthuhlin, he goeth out to hunt, or to talk to the othuh packth in the area. We want thith to be our home, tho...We gotta make friendth, with our neighbourth. That'th what he'th doin...An' he'th good at it," She said, lest the girl worry.