On my mind

He wasn't sure when it had started exactly. He'd started spotting them around the place and scooping them up. They reminded him of Odette, and he'd grabbed them just because. But as he headed back over the border, another feather in hand he wondered. Would his sister-cousin like them?

He had a long white swan feather, a vibrant green parrot one, and now a sleek black design that may have come from a raven. Not as shiny as Odette's wings, of course.

He went trotting through the cole, searching for the younger wolf. (And yes, a few days definitely counted. He was older.) “Odette?” He said, peeking into her dad's den.