Windwalker got into camp, dropping her load onto the fresh-kill pile. She ruffled her feathers, and adjusted her iron foot again.
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Windwalker's eyes went dark, but she had been used to be calling 'it.' from her old village. She watched them with cold eyes, walking toward the patrol.
Windwalker's eyes went dark, but she had been used to be calling 'it.' from her old village. She watched them with cold eyes, walking toward the patrol.
Still depressed and angered, Windwalker followed. I understand why they're being hostile. I'm an outsider to them. She thought. Her eyes were focused, her iron foot silent. She never spoke unless spoken to.