ORIGIN - Trying Not to Wing It

Having been ... just looking for so long, Renasci has decided that here along the forest's edge is better than anywhere else. At least, until something else tells them otherwise.

For what?

A small, branch-based ring in the grasses, hopefully tall enough to keep their planned deer in, and anything wanting to eat them, out.

It also helps that the materials for building are at hand, as well as whatever they bring in helpfully standing out from the native environment. The long but narrow cave means they can easily herd any creatures they need to, where they need to.

The location also may, or may not, be a result of them noticing signs of someone else living nearby long term. Hopefully they aren't violently territorial, but if they are, the harpy has a feeling they'll know soon enough to move on.

Now they thought it, and the feathers along their spine begin to lift, old paranoia making their magic spark and sweep out in an attempt to see if they're the only one here.

Huh… no-one. With that, their wings relax and they start searching for fallen sticks first. Wrist size and smaller, gathering as many as they find into a giant pile.

Around the pile, they stretch out a wing and measure from the pile to wingtip, and walk over to gouge a mark in the dirt where their feathers had reached.

Once.

Twice.

Five.

A dozen.

Making a vauge circle… ish. They then pause, and look at what they’ve got.

Hog had been lurking again, just watching from atop one of the nearby hills, peeping into the forests below. Someone had been gathering sticks. It was lucky her basket hadn't yet crumbled away, but it was getting there; this would likely be the last bundle it carried.

She took time picking sticks on the opposite side of the hill; the ones that had blown here would be smaller, bendier. Hopefully useful, but easier for her to carry too with her smaller frame. She counted nine neat little bundles of five (45, smaller sticks in total) by the time she was done, all tucked in her home-made basket. It made a worrying creak but held as she picked it up by the handle, the shape of the basket bowing and buckling under the weight of the sticks.

Then, she trotted back down the hill, towards where she'd seen the person with their own sticks.

It lasted until she made it close to the circle of sticks the bird-person had made, before it split, spilling her bundles nearby. The whole basket had unwoven itself, flinging the willow sticks it was made of into a heap on the grass, too.

"Oh, rats!" Hog huffed. Then looked up at the stranger with a bright smile. "I thought you were making something, so I brought more for you!" She announced, her piglet's tail wagging from side to side. "What're you making?" She tilted her head towards the stranger.

@Renasci