The blue jay had been lucky this morning! She’d found a washed-up fish on a mossy rock alongside the Fallen Fjord’s river. Another scavenger had already opened it up and eaten the most nutritious organs and tastiest muscles, but, well, a free meal during winter was a bargain!

So, with her spirits high, the blue jay flew up the cliffs. The harsh wind slowed her progress. She was forced to stop and cling to random roots to catch her breath.

But she was an explorer! Besides, if she messed up, she’d simply glide down and ride the wind out of the Fallen Fjord. She was a bird, after all, and climbing up a cliff was not so very scary to anything with wings. Even a small little almost-raven like Aster.

In this way, the blue jay persevered. When she got to the top of the cliffs, she landed on an oak’s low-hanging branch (about two meters off the ground) to breathe. The upward flight had been difficult! But now she was out!

Once she caught her breathe, the blue jay supposed that she might as well celebrate this morning adventure with a song. She inhaled. And then began to sing Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken. (https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44272/the-road-not-taken)

The herbalists needed help, that was what she was told. As much as she didn't want to, she had a familial duty to uphold. These small tasks, she was quickly finding, were the foundation of the Raiders. Of any group. Lyra also held a deep respect for those who served others. She believed that all should respect the healers, for who had the knowledge to tend your wounds? Who spent their spare time collecting plants and experimenting with new salves? They did. So, the girl would do her time, dreading the chore.

Lyra was lost in thought as she collected, eyes searching for the vibrant violets of alfalfa. The air was damp and colder than down in the hollow. Keep an eye out for juniper, be wary of wolfsbane! advised one medic. Lyra dipped her head in acknowledgment. There was a small rustle in the tree above her, she assumed it was just a squirrel. The pup knew better than to waste her time hunting one of those. Besides, that wasn't what she was here for.

Shortly after, a whistle caught her ears. The pitch of the blue jay's song stirred something in the wolfdog's soul. Lyra stopped what she was doing at stared at the creature above, unaware that it was sentient.



"Speech!"

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