A tiny gasp, caught tight in her throat strangles Fern's breathing.  Her eyes spread wide in shock and alarm at the sight spread before her.  The scent carrying through the breeze to her buried with the ferns that are her namesake.<em>Miaren, Miaren, what do I do?  I have..  no weapons.. no way to help you..  Miaren?</em><br/><br/>A tiny whimper escapes the blockade of her throat, forcing its way upward as she watches, not daring to move a hair's breadth least the creature rip Miaran with his claws or beak.