Bearclaw Valley a songbird and her cage

nephele would never hear what last words that slipped from tvar's mouth. she would never know of his apology, only the soft buzzing that broke through her mind and swallowed her in a headache. she could not think clearly, nor did she wish to any longer.

she twisted around to look upon him once more, an apologetic "i'm sorry," sent floating to the wind before she spun away and took off after the fading scent of the wolverine.

she would never slink close enough to properly hunt it, instead she herded it from one side of the valley to the other, it's trail just strong enough to follow. it's scent a welcome distraction. she would do this until the creature fled from the valley and her toes were left sore and bleeding.

and finally when there was nothing left to follow, she turned back toward her den and sought to sleep away the thumping in her mind.