Hushed Willows but i finally think i can say

birds, she answers. and then she is staring at him with eyes the color of a lush green meadow.

she greets him softly, her earlier excitement appearing to shy away.

or so this was how ezra chose to interpret the change.

for a long moment, the vessel stares back, feeling the familiar itch in his paws to keep moving. or maybe it was her unwavering gaze settled on him that made restless.

to him, nervousness and restlessness are of the same token.

hello, he parrots back after a longer moment spent debating. you are hunting birds? he asks, hopeful that it is the answer, thinking his mother might like a few eggs.