...You are. Without question or the barest shadow of a doubt, the strangest New Feather I have met.

[She's curious enough to want to ask. But tired enough of every shade of hell to just. Lay down in the grass next to him and rest awhile. He was right, after all. It was nice grass. Soft, not clipped or cut so it didn't poke or cause one to itch. There weren't any insects that would crawl or bite. Just.

Grass. It's almost ideal.]

It's easy for me to forget how lovely it can be here.