When I took a much-needed nap, brushing my messy hair was the least of my concerns. The problem was that my bird’s nest of snarls became – well – an actual bird’s nest while I was out cold: I woke up to a flurry of wings. By the time I’d extricated the unwanted visitor, three things were clear:
He was hurt.
He wasn’t alone.
He wasn’t
This hummingbird shifter must have been hitting the fermented nectar, because he – and his crow shifter buddy – have some absolutely insane notion that I’m their mate.
What the flock?