Gyrfalcon's Keep tell me of progress to strengthen my blood

she denied having the intention to partition her meal amongst packmates, and in passing bartok wondered if her answer implied her being bankrupt in the investment firm of "friends," or if she was just "looking out for number one," so to speak.

no matter, he thought. he did not care if she wanted to eat them for herself or if she wanted to egg someone's house. his function as falcon-hitman had not particularly been done for her benefit so much as filled a personal need of his to absolutely beat the shit out of something dumber than him.

whether or not her intentions were to eat him had he agreed to partake, she could have devoured him bones and all in a flash and that was a risk he was aware he was taking by fluttering so near to her. "oh." he said simply, disposing of any further thought towards the subject of the eggs thereafter.

he began to patter absentmindedly through a bush that flanked them, plucking off some wild berries and squishing them with his talons, squeaking with glee as the ruddy paste ran down his claws. it was only after a few moments did he feel her eyes burning holes in him, and he turned around and tilted his head back and forth. "what? bartok go?" he inquired hesitantly.