Shortbeak muttered nonsensically as she pushed herself up from the dry dirt of the ground, casting a dirty look back at her sister who was quietly chuckling to herself whilst seated on a rock, scribbling away at her book with a quill. Made from one of Shortbeak’s own feathers, mind you, as Amelia had literally plucked at one that was on the verge of falling out anyway while she had been sleeping. That had not been a pleasant wake up call. At least Amelia had found it amusing at the time.