on the western border, along the river. uhh, wow, this post didn't turn out like i planned. xD oh well, hope this works! oh, and she's drawing this bird, btw
Razekiel's hut was fine enough for one person, but for two it was a bit cramped. Sage had been used to having her own living space for over a year now, and it felt strange not to have it here. Despite the small quarters, though, she'd gotten to spend more time with her father. She hadn't known him until now, really; the idolized version of her father in her head, while not completely inaccurate, had been deceptive. The Razekiel she knew now was even better than her youngest memories, and she was thankful to have him back in her life. Often, she remembered her mother with sadness; she longed to see her, too. But who knew where the people of Juniper Peace were now...
The tawny coyote had fallen into a slight doze then, laying on her back in the mid-morning sun, with the East River babbling behind her. She had been gathering wood just beyond the border for the pack's bonfire before she'd fallen asleep, and several bundles of kindling already lay beside her, tied with strips of handsome leather saved from her fouled sewing attempts.
A shrill whistle had brought her back out of her daydreams, and Sage's golden gaze focused suddenly on the bird above. It was a brown and white thing, it's head-feathers fashioned into some sort of bird-style mohawk. It sang a high-pitched, pretty song as it's wings fluttered proudly, and the Dai-In stared at the thing with a smile, wondering if this one, too, knew her father. Sage thought it funny looking, and quickly reached for her sketchbook to doodle it's portrait into the pages. She managed almost half of a sketch before the creature took flight. Grabbing for her bag and retrieving a well-rolled cannabis cigarette, Sage found a match and struck it once. Inhaling the sweet smoke deeply for several moments, she exhaled, trying her best to remember just how the little bird had looked beside her. She hadn't even managed to speak with the pretty bird, she realized stupidly, laughing to herself at her own inaction. It'll come back, she told herself hopefully, sitting upright against the heavy bark of the leaf-bare tree above her with a sigh. The joint hung idly between her lips, thick tendrils of smoke wafting over her head, sweet and musky. Then, she set about finishing the sketch, golden gaze flickering over the tree line, just in case it decided to come back.
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