we're always running scared but holding knives
The bird notices the flare of heat and the smell of smoke in the air before Isla does, and it flaps its way free of the branch and off into the canopy without ever realising how close to death it had brushed. Hissing out a soft curse between her teeth, it's with a lashing of her tail that the Remedy settles on the bough of the tree, a bare leg left swinging towards the undergrowth.
A few more seconds pass before she realises the warmth in the breeze is more than just the heat of Leafchange, her face turning towards it instinctively. Through the mosaic of leaves and trunks she swears she can spot the lick of flames, but they move like something organic; either that, or someone is wheeling a campfire through the island, and call her crazy, but that sounds ludicrous.
Dropping down from the tree, it's on soft feet that she pads forward to get a closer look, parting the branches to trail after the journeying fire.
A few more seconds pass before she realises the warmth in the breeze is more than just the heat of Leafchange, her face turning towards it instinctively. Through the mosaic of leaves and trunks she swears she can spot the lick of flames, but they move like something organic; either that, or someone is wheeling a campfire through the island, and call her crazy, but that sounds ludicrous.
Dropping down from the tree, it's on soft feet that she pads forward to get a closer look, parting the branches to trail after the journeying fire.
Isla
