Fear is never a option, so dying's not a real phobia

Aster had been resting on a mossy branch when she spotted the wolf moving through the shadowy, foggy forest. Hard not to notice a massive, scarred wolf with a satchel! She tilted her head as she watched him. Aster had learned, through her travels and various talks with multiple species, how to spot a creature more likely to talk than attack.

So what if the biggy wolf was, well, big? And had a skull mask accessory? Fuck it, she was a blue jay. To such a wolf? A little bird took too much trouble to kill and defeather.

So, she fluttered her wings noisily. Let him know she was there, really, and then she glided down to a lower branch. If he wanted to attack, she’d have a good shot of flying away, but now he could hear her without her having to screech.

Her feet clutched the grippy lichen, and she tilted her head as she looked at the wolf gathering plants. “Wow, those must be real valuable if you’re doing all that with tooth and claw. I didn’t know wolves had a use for plants?! How weird!”

The blue jay trilled to herself. Then added, “I’d offer to help, but, eh, you understand, what with you having all those goddamn teeth!”