((Backdated to February 8th, with permission!))

Nemo

The bird had spent almost the entirety of the last 24 hours out in Ursa, creating quite the commotion. Sonic Booms, windstorms, the occasionally cussword screeched at a too-close lesser. He'd been... venting. Thinking, a little.

His bones hurt. His feet were cold, so cold he could barely feel them. The snow that had melted on his black and white feathers had partially refrozen on his quills. He's starting to hate the color white with a burning passion. The same burning in his eyes from the brightness, the whiteness all over, confusing and disorienting. Featureless and flat, except for the mountains looming in the distance.

Nemo... needs a break. He hates it, but a sensible part of him scolds him for working himself into the dirt, the stone under the ice and snow. If he's not in one piece to find them, to walk them or fly them back to their homes and families. To apologize for not seeing that massive worm coming. So, he banks towards a gap in the wall- a Tunnel, so he can wait at the staging grounds and-

No.

It's... the wrong Tunnel.

The lammergeier starts to slow in his flight, bauble swinging as he alters his pace, wingbeats louder and labored as he decides if he really wants to settle down here, or make his way back to the staging grounds.


@Aure