Ankyra Sound gatorwine

The nickname implied some flavor of familiarity if not affection. Treepie’s head canted, one ear bent to indicate that she was listening raptly even as her eyes drifted between Yura and the three newborns. She felt a sense of posessive pride that didn’t belong to her, eliciting a loud swallow as she turned to face Sobeille’s question.

He was injured, actually, but not very badly, according to him, anyway. I offered to help, it felt important to mention. He said something about traveling a lot and always coming home to the sea.

She trailed off with a frown. Their home was gone and they had Tiuttuk’s empathy, of course. Perhaps it would be nice to reunite with someone who could even better understand that loss and pain, though. Pie wetted her lips with a pass of her tongue, waiting for Sobeille’s response.

Idly, she wondered if she could send Wyvern to locate him and bring him here, though she discarded the idea out of hand. Sending a bird after him so soon after his attack seemed like it would be in very poor taste. Besides, she hadn’t seen much of the nightjar lately, as Wyvern was even less inclined toward caves than the Ostrega herself.