Redhawk Caldera The crow flies straight

Tempest approached the beta, who seemed to be stripping a duck. She laughed when she neared to see him struggling with a downy, slobbery feather. She smirked at him, standing in front of him now.
"Feather trouble, dearest Twiggy?" she questioned him in a sugar coated voice. "Let me help you with that"

She leaned forward and gingerly tugged the feather from it's perch between his teeth. She drew up, then spat, propelling the feather into the air and down again, where it promptly landed in the middle of Twiggy's forehead. "Score!" she thought to herself, eyes glinting in mischief.