Arrow Lake The divine radiance of invertebrates

When the name didn't ring a bell and Scimitar apologized, Pied shrugged a bony shoulder as if to say, It's all right. She thought the subject likely closed, until he mentioned two surnames: Frostfur and DeMonte. She'd heard of the latter, she was sure of it. She couldn't place it, though, and Pied simply didn't know enough about her grandmother Mo's past to bridge the gap. If she had, she would've realized they were distantly related and, furthermore, that Scimitar's mother had once rescued an amnesiac March Owl from certain death.

Alas, their mutual ancestry remained undisclosed. The topic shifted slightly and Pied—who felt sluggish with hunger—didn't immediately understand the segue. Then it occurred to her that Scimitar was referencing the valley. When comprehension dawned, she smiled and waved her feathery tail, though it soon stilled, as she was simply too weary to maintain the motion.

"I love the sea. I wish I could live close to it again," Pied mused, unaware at this juncture that the ocean lay just a few hour's travel away. Her lips pinched. "Living in a forest just isn't the same." Especially when it's filled with screaming foxes, she groused inwardly.

Speaking of the forest, Pied knew she should return to her home, empty as it was now. Even more pressing, she really needed to continue the search for food. Though it was tempting to ask Scimitar for help—or, hell, follow him home to this Tuatha Dé—the shackles of her blood oath still bound her. They'd loosened but were not yet broken.

"Hey, it was nice meeting you but I'd better get going," she said, meeting Scimitar's eyes a final time and once more admiring his chiseled features. "Take care, Scimitar," Pied said genuinely, giving no indication of the stabbing hunger pains that assaulted her as she dipped her pale muzzle and glided away into the gathering gloom.