In a snowy clearing on the edge of town.

[Zephyra]

Kai has been a busy foxkin over the past 24 hours. It started just after lunch yesterday, with the scouting of the edges of town for a suitable place. Late winter berries, bits of bread, acorns, shiny rocks, and a few silvers make an outline in the crisp winter's snow; face turned towards the rising sun, the wings of the bird-shape span some good twenty-plus feet.

(8am) As the sun rises this morning, she is standing in the middle of the shape, at the heart of it. By her left foot is a mixed pile spoons and roasting forks "borrowed" from the tavern, all twisted and bent beyond use. The frozen ground claims another tool, and she grumbles as she drops her last big spoon on the pile. She pulls out her dagger, and continues to enlarge the meager hole she has dug. The going is slow, scraping away a tiny sliver of earth at a time, but finally the hole is deep enough. She pulls from her pouch one of the Wormwood seed pods (a treasured possession), places it in the hole, and covers it back over with dirt.

She sits back on her heels and sighs, "I'm sure you would have helped me dig, if you were here. You really should be here-" the first tear falls, as she starts to dig in her shoulder bag. She pulls out a small stringed instrument which must have taken up most of her bag, and gives the strings a quick strum. "I didn't get to tell anyone.. I just started learning." She adjusts herself slightly and plucks a few strings.

"Oh, misty eye of the mountain below, keep careful watch of my brothers' souls.
And should the sky be filled with fire and smoke, keep watching over Durin's sons.
If this is to end in fire, then we should all burn together. Watch the flames climb high into the night.
Calling out father oh, stand by and we will watch the flames burn auburn on the mountain side."

Her singing begins softly, her voice punctuation by the occasional note on her instrument which she plucks tentatively.

"And if we should die tonight, then we should all die together. Raise a glass of wine for the last time.
Calling out father oh, prepare as we will watch the flames burn auburn on the mountain side.
Desolation comes upon the sky.

Now I see fire, inside the mountain. I see fire, burning the trees.
And I see fire, hollowing souls. I see fire. Blood in the breeze.
And I hope that you remember me."

Her voice grows louder, stronger, and she plucks the notes with growing resolve.

"Oh, should my people fall, then surely I'll do the same. Confined in mountain halls, we got too close to the flame.
Calling out father oh, hold fast and we will watch the flames burn auburn on the mountain side.
Desolation comes upon the sky.

Now I see fire, inside the mountain. I see fire, burning the trees.
And I see fire, hollowing souls. I see fire. Blood in the breeze.
And I hope that you remember me."

Tears are falling freely down her face now, and while her voice is still louder, is it starting to take on that high choked tone of a person who has been crying for too many hours.

"And if the night is burning, I will cover my eyes. For if the dark returns then my brothers will die.
And as the sky is falling down, it crashed into this lonely town.
And with that shadow upon the ground, I hear my people screaming out-"

She falls forward, sobbing between words. She drops her instrument, and it falls forgotten into the snow.

"Now I see fire, inside the mountain. I see fire, burning the trees.
And I see fire, hollowing souls. I see fire. Blood in the breeze..."

She curls forward into a ball on top of her newly planted seed, and her sobs echo softly through the clearing for hours.

 

[Zephyra]

(1pm)
Kai has cried herself to sleep in the snow. She awakens with a start and looks around the clearing. A brave magpie tilts its head and blinks at her from the trail of objects, a shiny rock held in its beak. Looking around, about a quarter of the outline is gone already, the bits and pieces reclaimed by nature as she had intended. Sighing and stretching, she peels herself off the ground and flakes a clump of frozen tears off the edge of her cloak. Her movements are slow, grief and cold have set aches into every muscle and bone. While she is getting organized, the magpie flits off with its stone, and returns to pick out another one. The broken kitchen tools are loaded into her pack, to repair or make restitution for. She spends a long moment staring at her stringed instrument, still laying in the snow, and considers just leaving it there. A croaky squack startles her from her contemplation and she looks back at the bird.

"You want me to take it?" She asks. The bird squaks again, making eye contact. "It feels like nothing matters anymore!" The bird looks over its shoulder, then back at her, and squaks again. "Fine, I'll take it, " she huffs with mild resignation. "I suppose it wouldn't do you any good anyways." She pulls the instrument out of the snow, and brushes the crust off it. "Magpie..." she mummers to herself. She carefully puts the newly-dubbed object back into her bag, and starts to make her way back to town. The caravan will be coming through soon, and she has a lot of packing to do.