MuseOfWar's Lair

A stretch of soft, green gras rolls with the land. Not far away, sparkling water laps against stone.
Nests are scattered across the space, filled with sleeping couples and warm, loved eggs.
These are the lucky ones; these with someone to sleep beside.
Breeders. Their space in the clan is all but secure; their only concern is whether they will see their children through adulthood—or whether the Wingsinger will inevitably call for their young.