You better be able to turn yourself off if you think you’re coming back into my house,” she said. The bird gave her another dubious look before stamping one foot and the flames disappeared leaving long gold and red feathers.
“Oh,” Anya said embarrassed. “I suppose you can.

The trail through the pines and beech trees was bright red. He was surprised the other human couldn’t see it. She was walking slowly, not far from him. He could smell the moisture on her hot skin. She hadn’t noticed his presence yet. She stopped in her tracks and he moved silently behind a cluster of moss-covered rocks. She turned and he saw her face.
Oh no not her…he thought before turning and bolting back the way he came.

The shiny black nose of a fox appears through her door before the rest of it steps tentatively across the wooden floor to where she’s cooking. A pile of children’s clothes lie discarded in a corner of the room. The fox knows what she is cooking and holds back a shudder. There are some things even foxes know better than to eat.

I don’t naturally look like this. I have to feed in order to have the power to hold it.”
“Feed on what exactly?” Please don’t say blood, please don’t say blood, she whispered in her mind.
“Death,” Trajan answered. Anya didn’t know if that was better or worse.

Look through the heavy pine forest and see a fire glowing. Beside it sits a bear of a man, knife in one hand, a clay bowl on the ground in front of him.
It has been a long time since he last shed blood for his Gods. Tonight would satisfy them a little while longer. The screech of a doomed animal is cut short and the bowl fills with its steaming blood. He puts it on a flat stone by the fire. He cuts his scarred wrist to let his own blood drip into the warming mixture.
For many days he has thrown his runes and has had no clear sight. He has marked each one with his blood and still they reveal nothing.
A tune starts deep in his gut. It stretches and twists like an unborn child, travelling up like a snake through his chest, setting his bones to shake. He grinds his jaw shut to keep it from escaping as it creeps up his throat.
His lips start to vibrate with the tune as it tries to push its way out. The man is well learned in the ways of the song and knows how to control it. The bowl is steaming heavily and he leans over it to breathe in the blood fumes that will give his visions. This man’s name is Vasilli and he is trying to find his brother.

A feather is a sign from the angels. It is a response to a question, a thought or an emotion. It's their way of saying; "You are loved and are being guided through this by the angelic realm.