Harlow was after a marvelous little shrike with single-minded intensity. The pint-sized bird was half dragging half fighting an adult crow and Harlow was eager to see how the little bird handled it. Those birds were known for their ingenuity but this was next level stuff. The battle raged in the air and on the ground as the pair struggled. The crow, it seemed, just wished to get away from the tiny terror but the shrike, as shrikes do, was in it for a meal. There was a trail of feathers along the path Harlow had followed. Most were from the crow but a few were from the shrike. While it may not have been a scarlet showing of violence anyone familiar with the birds had an idea of how serious it was. Harlow was hooked.

Enraptured she followed at a discreet distance; carefully hiding behind bushes and under fallen logs as she tried to not draw attention to herself. The shrike was committed but even a whiff of a predator would send the clever bird heavenward. It was brazen but no fool. If she was the cause behind the fight ending prematurely Harlow would find a way to kick herself.

A gasp escaped her lips at the shrike dove for the ground suddenly and artfully twisted the crow into slamming into the sharp edge of a splintered rib bone. The crow hung, flailing, over the skeleton of some dead and forgotten combatant while the shrike went to work. It tugged and twisted as the crow clawed and snapped after it. Bit by bit and with the most admirable of determinations the shrike somehow managed to work the crow further onto the rib spike until finally, blessedly, the crow succumbed to its injuries. Harlow was in awe. She didn't care for the violence itself but the cleverness! The bravado! Who wouldn't appreciate the sheer tenacity of that fearless, pint-sized predator??

For the first time in a while Harlow took in her surroundings. Boy she was a long way from where she started. It was an uh interesting place to say the least. Lots of skeletons now that she really looked. Welp, it was time to leave the shrike to its meal and head back the way she'd. This seemed like the sort of place she'd explore one day, but not today. No thanks.

Wyndelin didn't know what to do with himself. He'd lost track of Eurus or rather his brother had yet to return to the plains and Wyndelin found himself alone again as winter set in. He lingered in the valley for awhile longer before gathering his things and heading northward. North was probably a stupid direction to go in but it was where he'd set his gaze first so it was the direction he'd opted to go in and hopefully he could… he could… well, find his way. With Lirim gone and his brother's band a passing hope he had no home. He debated joining a neighboring pack but he really didn't know where he'd fit in and he was too nervous to just start approaching at random. What if he walked up to some violent pack and was abducted again? Wyndelin worked through the snow as Flikkr flew ahead of him. He was passing through the battlefield when he heard the sounds of a crow and something else. It sounded vicious. His magpie, Flikkr, flew lower, eventually landing near him as the other birds went silent. He kept on his way til he spied a small girl up ahead. At first he mistook her for a pup. What on earth was such a small child doing out here on her own? He cleared his throat, trying not to scare her. "Do you need help finding your parents? This is a Battlefield, it's not safe here." He personally was hoping to sneak through as quickly as possible. "Talk"