"Of course it's great!" the fae beast laughs in return. "Why do you think birds sing all the time? It's because they're happy!"
Probably not completely accurate from a biological standpoint, but it sounds nice enough.
Far below the rift looms, wide and dark and treacherous. The darkness seems deeper here than it was back in the city. Less twilight and more the dead of night. Horrid shapes move within the thick fog that clings to the mountainside.
"That looks like our spot. I'm heading down," and with that said she does, dipping one wing and swooping toward the nightmare infested mountain to get a better look.