Firefly Glen [PHE] qanglaxtal

He gave each syllable of her name careful consideration upon his tongue. Nantahala, he repeated, slowly but surely, and smiled at the sound of it.

And she hoped to hunt, too!

The birds I was hunting flew away, he explained. He shrugged, setting that speed bump aside. We can find others.

With a jerk of his chin in invitation, he padded down the forest trail, ears swiveling to listen for various birds in the trees. Only when he was certain that they had happened upon a flock of them did he pause and sink low, waiting. He didn't even dare to breath, instead cutting his eyes in question to Nantahala.

Do you hear them? his gaze read. It was actually a group of juncos, feasting on berries littered upon the ground. They're within our reach.