Firefly Glen suspended in this disaster

the boy came closer. astara made note of the fern-green of his gaze, which reminded her of distant summer. a pleasant image, were it not for the fact threat rippled beneath his vainglorious posture.

lazily, astara studied his form. his territorial posturing was met with a slow slink, the little blackbird at last pulling from her roost under the fen-cover.

she made to prowl sulkily past, as if his grand show of aggression had subdued her interest in lingering. as she passed his shoulder in that hyaenid slouch she spun, fangs bared for the boy's skull.