Blackfoot Forest the primroses were over

Beautiful.
 
It was all that he had wanted. It was so labyrinthine – those feelings that he possessed for the woman touched by Frith – to wade through such vast fervor. Try as he might, the spindle-limbed crow was not truly capable of expressing all that was felt. Even still, he strived to demonstrate his devotion with care and precision, in ways that most would see as simple acts of kindness or warmth.
 
And perhaps he lacked the words.
 
Tadec was not part of their world. He tried with great intensity to be like them, and to live on the edge of what he had known all his life and what he was learning as he grew. He was a man birthed in the light of Inlé – touched by the tendrils of silvery fire that shone from heavens above – and she… she belonged to the fiery suns of Frith. One could not live without the other, he had realized over his time with her. For all of their differences, the dark and flighty crow saw so much in her. How difficult it was to express was a weight only for him to carry.
 
“Indra is beautiful.”
 
Bashful and soft, but still spoken with the same breathless candor as all the other words he had offered to the Redleaf wolf of fire. His devotion was barefaced and spilled from each beat of his weary little heart.