the peace and silence that surrounded the corvid's home would soon be made into a still silence, the kind that bespoke of dangers. a low uttering growl would exit the beast prowling in the winds on high, prey animals hiding away for the sake of safety from the predator above, birds' warning cries cut short. the gust of wind would howl for a short moment, whipping around a foreign shape as the golden kingpin lowered themselves to the ground, talons catching against grass as they eased into a nearby clearing before uttering a deep booming call, "Malak", he should be home, he usually was. a strange longing to see the feathered beast had awoken them from their slumber, a longing for past things. he should at least now what had happened, and what they were going to be doing from this point forward.

settling to slide between the trees in the path that they had carved in numerous journeys, would the shapeshifter approach the old twisted tree, gaze raking over the assortment of things upon the branches. pausing as they reached the trunk, their mind flitted back to many different times, the ones that they had visited here in a fever, the ones that they had come bearing horrid wounds. crooning softly, would they settle, curling up as comfortably as they could around the base, calling upon their wind element to soften the gale around the tree, to brush off snow dusting branches.