Dragoncrest Cliffs If we jump together, at least we can swim.

Sequoia stepped forward, collecting her brother's gift between her teeth, and settled to place it between her paws and gaze down at it. The boy observed her movement's quietly, grey-green gaze lingering softly on what had been his feather, and pricked a velvet lobe as she piped up in question.

"A nighthawk," he answered swiftly, recalling the day that he had found the feathers in the woods and returned them to the adults with the hope of identification. Their elder sister had been certain of the bird it had come from, and he smiled fondly at the memory as his soft gaze sought the bold white stripe that marked the feather's tip. "Dalia was sure that this one had come from its tail."