Bearclaw Valley a songbird and her cage

nephele fell to old muscle memory routine, slinking low and breathing softly as she padded through a thin veil of freshly powdered snow. the tracks were dusted in alabaster but the scent remained firm on the wind, and so she continued to press forward.

her approaching company was offered a stiff shoulder until he neared enough to speak, her focus sidelined as she turned to answer the question. her mouth parted, and it hung agape as absinthe eyes drew upward to admire a familiar face.

a face she knew. a face she had once slept aside. a face she did not think she'd ever see again.

she backpedaled a few paces, skepticism wrinkled in her startled features. why are you here? her mind yelled but her tongue stayed speechless. in a gust of tangling wind the stormcloud could only utter a single dazed word.

"arktos?"