The winter had not been particularly harsh, but it had been long. Even now the last linger sighs of cold would tickle DBC as he slept in his cave. So coming upon the fresh body of a dead songbird was not surprising. He hesitated, unsure of what to do with the little creature. The ribcage was very visible, and his wings look pecked raw of feathers. "Poor creature... It must have been a winter birth. Never had a chance."
It wasn't like DBC had any place to be, and watching as life returned to the swamp was just as interesting as rambling around listelessly. Smiling, he settled down some distance and watched, first as the stillness of the swamp flushed in... and then slowly as tiny ants trudged forward to begin the process of renewal and rebirth.
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