when the colors fade

Tide's comment about the birds has Pythia growing still. Her head lifts, slightly floppy ears going rigid as she listens. On one side, the lull of the water washing up on the shore sends a wave of comfort. The rustle of a gentle breeze that ruffles her coat and carries heavy notes of brine and salt. To the other side, there's much of nothing. Save for the quiet movement of grass giving in to that same breeze and the occasional rumble of the earth from the tremors, there's not much else aside from her and her brother's movements.

Whatever the boy has side, Pythia doesn't hear it. For the first time, she feels disconcerted about the whole ordeal. "Birds should be here," she whispers quietly, her weight shifting back and forth to try and get a better feel for the ground beneath her. The dirt, somehow, feels inviting. "I don't feel the steps of larger prey or predator. No call of the sea bird either." Her head moves back and forth, fur bristling with growing uncertainty. "Whatever made these channels has scared off the animals," Pythia spoke in a warning tone to Tide, an eerie call that would send shivers down anyone's spine.

"speech"