The tradition of the Winter Festival continues as Tilan and her companions walk on the streets, where the surrounding shops and street lamps are decorated with frozen-green branches or simulated ornaments. The frozen-green branches are dotted with dark red berries, imparting a sense of harvest and vitality.
"Where did the bird in Tilan's arms come from?" Ores had been wanting to ask this since they stepped out, and finally couldn't help but speak up.
"Oh, this one?" Tilan blinked and stroked the somewhat 'big' White Kite in her arms.
"It's a Light Cotton Bird I've raised, now advanced to Sequence 5 stage." The White Kite in Tilan's embrace looked around with a somewhat dumbfounded gaze, occasionally attempting to break free and run out on its own.
"You can't do that, it's too crowded here, you can't just fly around." Tilan stroked its neck to calm it down.
