Typically Henry tends to stick around his own neck of the woods. It isn't every day that he strays so far away from home, but he thinks that lately his life of building nests, flying around, eating and shitting all over the place has just produced too much stress for him, so he's decided to treat himself to a well-deserved and well-needed vacation. One might not think of a grody, disgusting marsh as much of a getaway, but for Henry, it's the perfect change of scenery. It's dark, it's wet, and the locals don't seem interested in bothering him. After all, he's just some inconspicuous little bird circling overhead. The most they could do is try to eat him.

Henry isn't worried about being made into someone's snack. He's confident that he can handle whatever raving beast comes charging out of the trees. Besides, most of the monsters crawling around this particular swamp are all dumb, wingless land animals. Or so he thinks. Henry has yet to actually meet the residents of the land he's invading. And he likes it that way. There's no one to bother him, no one he has to make conversation with, just the occasional idiot thinking he's their dinner. Being so small and bland, he's perfectly inconspicuous. Well, maybe a bright-feathered robin like himself wouldn't often be found romping around a marsh like this, but still, who would question it?

He would have stayed that way, too, enjoying himself as he explored the territory, watching the animals below romp around. Had it not been for the sudden cramp in his wing, Henry wouldn't have barreled straight into the middle of Tanglewood's lazy "ghost town" with a bloodcurdling screech. He hits the ground with a thud. "Goddamn it!" Henry wails. This always happens to him. Why can't he have one nice thing?

malphas was hungry. this was never a good thing.

he craved the most intimate flesh, the sweetest and juiciest cut- the meat of his own species. technically speaking, cat meat was stringy and not as succulent as beef or well-prepared dog, but it wasn't really about the texture. it was the experience. still though, doing his patrols around the border got him no loners, no dead bodies. he curled his lip in disgust, hearing his stomach rumble.

he went back to camp to witness a profanity-screaming bird crashing into camp, and hungry as ever, he sprang into action. "i call it, that one's mine," he said, and then attempted to pounce on the bird.