//OOC

Although he had likely already faded from the active memory of those who had briefly met him, many were likely to at least vaguely remember him. He had showed up in the middle of Tanglewood’s forest, bleeding from the head and with seemingly no memory of who he was. His anxious nature and fragile body brought mixtures of looks his way - some of pity, some of contempt, and some of hunger. Out of fear of losing his life, shortly after being given the name Bink until he remembered his own, the crow vanished without a trace.

Some figured he had gotten eaten by a predator, and others thought he may have gone to try and recover his memories. Truthfully, he had never really left. He had been hiding on the outskirts of the territory, in a less terrifying place with more accessible (and less dangerous) food sources. The wound on his head had reduced itself to an ugly, healing scab, which would no doubt end up as a scar.

But as temperatures dropped and food grew scarce, the crow, who could barely care for himself as is, realized he would die if he stayed where he was.

With a feeling nearing shame sitting in his heart, he found his way back into Tanglewood with a mixture of hopping and fluttering. He couldn’t remember how to fly. Or did he never know how in the first place? Clicking his beak uncertainly, he lurked around the outskirts of town, eyeing the coming and going Tanglers. Although his presence had been majorly noticed, he finally worked up the nerve to call out. ”I-I’m back...”

//he doesn’t actually have the hat yet! my bad, but i’ll make do
also can i say that i already Love lemy

As per his normal reaction with anything, his heart skipped a beat when one of the Tanglers going about their business stopped and began to head in his direction. The tiny crow gulped, then paused. Squinting his beady, dark eyes, there was recognition in his features as he briefly bobbed his head. Bink let the lion speak first, while he scanned over the bright fur and feathers in an attempt to search his memory. He knew this guy. What was his name again? Was that bandage there before?

Pleasantly surprised that his name was remembered, the dark bird straightened up and offered a smile. ”Wor- Worm...” Worm-something. He recalled thinking that it was a very odd name. Oh! ”Wormwood!” he exclaimed happily. ”I’m glad to see you!” Taking a few steps forward, he turned and tipped his head much like a pigeon. ”What happened to your...” the words died in his throat.

Bink’s expression turned to that of absolute horror as the massive spider skittered over on eight legs. Spider. It’s a massive spider. That’s a massive spider. As fast as he could on his own spindly legs, the crow darted and hid behind one of Wormwood’s. Wormwood would protect him from it, his heart told him. His mind said that it would kill them all. Practically clinging to the lion’s leg, he stared out at the arachnid with wide eyes. It spoke. Why does subject have hat? Hat? What hat? Shakily, he reached up and brushed his head with the wrist of his wing. To his surprise, an equally tiny leaf, presumably from a bush, fell to the ground. ”O-oh...” he mumbled, dumbfounded. Heart still pounding in his chest, he somehow got even closer to his lion friend’s ankle and looked at eight different eyes nervously and sheepishly. He wasn’t dead yet. Must be biding its time. ”I... I didn’t notice it was there.” A weak, nervous laugh didn’t quite leave his beak.

When the excited, creamy-colored cat abruptly appeared in front of him and squealed, the little corvid damn near had a heart attack. Briefly lurching on his feet as if he were about to faint like a goat, he leaned against Wormwood. ”Pl- please don’t do- don’t do that,” he managed, voice little more than a coarse whisper. As it turns out, Tanglewood had gained more members in the time he was gone. Although he was loud, this new one didn’t scare him like... like the spider. Giant spider. ”Hello,” he tried again, voice cracking. ”I can’t remember my real name, b-but people call me Bink.”