Chickadee blinked at a birdlike chitter from the trees . . . and a blue-winged man came spiraling down. Chicka was unused to eliciting such a reaction from men. She just blushed and giggled awkwardly, gazing into his blue orbs, her face graced with a light blush. “H - hi,” she spoke, wings fluttering bashfully. “I - um - I’m Chickadee, I’m from Sabertooth.” His words echoed in Chicka’s skull. Be mine tonight. He couldn’t seriously mean it, could he . . . ? She had never been taken notice of in Hawthorne, or in Sabertooth. It seemed unlikely that any man would want Chickadee now.
She gazed at the man who had noticed her, eyes flicking over his form. Antlers, wings, spotting like a deer fawn. He was handsome, that much was certain. “Who are you? Where are you from?” she asked, hoping to make casual conversation.

"SO IF YOU CAN’T FIND ME, LOOK TO THE WESTERN SKY!"