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Dusk was always Mockingbird's favorite time of the day. The heat of the sun was gone, but it wasn't too dark yet. A good time for being out of the warren proper, and a better time for silflay. She didn't like to eat too close to the warren; she liked to range further out where the grass wasn't so trampled, but tonight it had seemed as though others had taken up the same idea during the day. She snuffed about, searching for a place that hadn't been cropped by sharp lapine incisors.

Something caught her eye in the distance. Another rabbit, either a small adult or a larger outskirter, was also out of the warren's tunnels- and much further away than it was probably safe to be alone at this hour. Foxes and owls were starting to awaken, and while the real threat would come later in the evening, they were still a danger. Mockingbird shook her head, then bounded out there. There would be greater safety in numbers, and the grass over here was... less than appetizing, thanks to overgrazing.

The strange doe's voice revealed her youth, and Mockingbird had to smile. She could remember what it was like to be an outskirter tasting freedom for the first time. And, as she nibbled a blade of grass, she realized how sweet this freedom could be. So long as the stranger didn't object to her company, she'd stay out a while. She wasn't the kind of rabbit who'd attempt to use the virtue of her age alone to force another- even an outskirter- back into the warren when there was no clear sign of danger. Instead, she greeted her with a flick of the ears and a warm smile. "Hello, friend," Mockingbird said, her voice low and dulcet. "Do you mind if I share this patch?" She wasn't sure whose child this outskirter was. Certainly no rabbit she knew intimately, but the warren wasn't an enormous place. She felt as though she was bound to have previously run into one or both of them at least once. "And if it's not an imposition, may I ask if I know your kin? Your mother, or perhaps your father? My name is Mockingbird, if that is of any help."

Quickly, she made a check of the tree line, rising to her hind feet and then dropping down again. Nothing was moving erratically; the shrubs were still in place and the trees' movement was keyed to the wind. There were no undulating lines in the grass that would indicate a serpent; the elil were not afoot yet. No, the evening seemed to be just as it appeared. A nice night with lots of crisp grass.

"Farm raids are dangerous. Your parli was plenty brave to even attempt one, Underwing. Still, sorry that he's stopped running." Mockingbird said this almost matter-of-factly; death was an unfortunate part of any life, and death for rabbits was particularly common. At least the other doe's father had died with honor. "Moonsong... I do believe I know her. Dark-headed doe, funny little mark by her eye? Sort of crinkles up when she's chewing or smiling? I've shared silflay with her. Not that I know her well, mind you, but she seems a good enough sort." She smiled kindly at the young doe and opened her mouth to say something else, but a rustle caught her attention. It was slight and distant, but the wind carried it just right, and one could never be too careful...

"Did you hear that?" she asked, holding still and turning her ears towards the underbrush. "I thought I heard something..." Her whiskers twitched as she listened intently for the noise, but it didn't seem to come again.