Dragoncrest Cliffs Bluebells

the saint, belly full with salty seal fats and fish — that she was getting better at catching — was beginning to gain weight again, filling back out with aching slowness of blood beneath a bruise. but already, she did not look so gaunt, so bonethin; her golden eye brighter and more alert.

a small bundle of feathers: brown and spotted of a hawk, some white and grey of seagulls, is carried betwixt her jaws. she'd meant to use them to decorate her den, when she made or found one.

her steps slow as she comes across chacal, perhaps subconsciously drawn by the song despite that it had not been meant for her. ears flutter back to rest at half mast atop her skull, steps faltering as her gaze goes from the mother and leader of sapphique to the four small children.

hesitant and unsure.

it wasn't too late to slink back the way she came and avoid the little outing.