Cedar Sweep like carillon bells, the house of Augustus rings

She raised her head at the chuff, the steel of her eyes catching the pale shape in the undergrowth. Water streamed from between her teeth, dripping from her whiskers, scattering the faint shapes of tadpoles and minnows in the shallows.

She licked her lips, sweeping away the droplets. The face who approached her was unfamiliar to her, entirely new, and it settled something to know that whoever lived here, they did not know Jericho.

Passerine answered the chuff with one of her own, looking across the way to her. An acceptance of closeness, though wary. It hung in the creases beside her eyes, in the turn of her mouth as she observed the woman. Pale in color, her exact opposite, a dichotomy. The dark woman straightened, letting her head raise to her full height.

Watchful. Wary. But allowing this, for the moment.