The swamp was white with a light dusting of snow that was crisp and chill beneath her silvery hooves. Winter had fallen upon the swamp, turning the red leaves to crystal and the brackish water to black glass. But there was something odd about this first snow, Mimicry thought pleasantly. From above her, birds chatted in their wonderful sing-song voices in a language only she understood. It would seem that the birds of the moore were staying put a little bit longer than usual. Above her, her two delightful birds circled, singing back and forth between the two of them. Cheerfully, Mimi would reply with her own chirps and song. It was such a wonderful day that it was hard to be in anything but a good mood. It took a bit of coaxing, but with the help of Chirp and Tweet, their new friend Trill would be just fine.
That was when a new sound made its way into the mix. It was a bird, she thought, but it's call sounded... off. Looking around she found it, big and purple, the bird was clearly different than her own two as it walked through the snow. He was tall and proud with sleek lavender feathers and a sharp beak. The strangeness of his cry, Mimi thought, was from the fact that his left wing was held at a very awkward angle. Broken, she assumed, and cooed softly at him. She wouldn't hurt him, she implied, but make him better so that he may fly again.
