The forest seemed to always be in song, as if there was always some event to lift voices in praise of. On sunny days when spring was in full blossom, coating the trees and limbs in gradients of warm hues and collages of flowers in the hundred, the birds cried to the heaven's a warbling tune, and in humid summer nights the cicadas and crickets would hum a medley with all the wild energy that night could encompass. Even in autumn cooling brooks would send a whispering duet with the hiss of crackling leaves, and winter would send it's winds blowing to create the skeletal rattling of trees in a haunting hymn of destitution.

Today the skies were a grey mountain of endless shadows overlapping shadows, the soft rumble of thunder a rolling drum in the far distance, but growing ever near like the building to a crescendo to the nearing storm, the breeze picking up to a raspy howl. It was doomed to be a gloomy day with rain moments away, and despite the fact that soon Mindlesspaw was planning to attempt to actually hunt for the first time, it was almost certain that most prey in the forest would be well nestled in their den to avoid the wake of wind and rain looming just moments away.

And yet, still from the top of a high branch there sat perched a small Jay, who's small body was tossed and thrown with the thin branch on which it clenched itself. Though small and tiny, a shadowy speck that barely stood out against the dark sky, it belted out a cry loud and eerie that pierced the air. Like a hawk, like a god of the storm, it did not cry out in defiance but in a warning that met the air like it itself was twin with thunder's snarl.