juniper
"and this time, she won't be forgiving"
painted red by exhaustion and weeping, there is little love left in the storm-swirled seafoam that glances across the camp. half-lidded, creased and sorrowful but most importantly. . . angry. furious to have been brought so low from such incredible heights, to be snapped up by her tail and dragged from that which kept her most whole. that brief moment, that tiniest of reunions, it was just as generous a gift as it was a poisonous curse. and he is there, demanding to take up space at the forefront of her mind.a grappling of talons that begs for her to feel the sharpness of their points embedded into her side. had she not offered him enough? was one life not plenty for one who would get nine more of his own to waste someday? her eyes narrow, hardly more than an accusatory squint anymore. "Owlbark." a greeting short, curt, frigid in its brevity. "Don't you have better things to do than worry over me?" like one of whatever four tasks he has assigned himself for the day without her say-so. bothering apprentices on their training, organizing patrols... listlessly creeping after her like she were a glass perilously close to the edge of a table.
"They passed their assessments... so I'll be giving them their names. Unless you'd like to tell me you don't trust their mentors?"