DRIFTING - FEATHER
Hurried, messy footprints were scattered across the beach, occasional golden feather scattered with them. Drift was scared- no, more than that. She was angry, scared, grieving, confused. One would find her in a shallow recess in the sands and snow, then would find her running toward the cliffs. She had to get to the cliffs. She had to. She had to. Safe place.
" THEY NEVER HAD IT LIKE ME, LIKE ME / THEY NEVER REALLY LIKED ME, LIKED ME! " ————————————————— ˊˎ˗