Howling at the Moon

The wolf-talking owl had spent the day sleeping in Sunspire territory, and spent this evening flying out away from the Sunspire. She may be an ally and friend to the pack, but she was still an owl, and not a major part of anything.

The owl landed on a rocky ledge, and preened her feathers for the next few minutes. Her thoughts were away, thinking about the year. She was considerably old now, in her prime years, say it were. She was around the average age for an owl, and had yet to find a mate.

That didn't matter at this point. If she mated, she mated, if she didn't she didn't. It wasn't that hard. Taking flight, the owl spent the next half hour hunting the first of six voles of the night. When she caught here quarry, she would dive into a kill spiral and reach out with her talons at an alarming rate, scooping up her meal back into the air.

She sat back down on a rocky ledge and began to swallow the meal whole, mind adrift and daydreaming- er, night-dreaming.

Again, the priestess was chasing a hare in the night. She had driven it out of it's warren, but it got past her and darted away. Meldresi followed it, gaining actual ground this time. She dashed down the mountain, gravity pulling her down faster because of her weight, getting closer and closer until she tripped the hare and let it tumble down, hearing it squeak as its neck broke.

Satisfied, Meldresi skidded further down the slope towards her kill. She grabbed the dead hare in her jaws, seeing a ledge where she could sit and eat. But as she grew closer she saw a barn owl resting on the ledge. She was about to turn away then, not willing to disturb the owl.

The heartbeat of a wolf interrupted her first meal of the night. She lifted out her left wing and waggled it to catch it's attention. She spoke in wolfish, "Ho' o' a' o'e'", meaning to say, Hold on a moment.

After she had finished her vole, hoping that the wolf had stayed long enough, she made sure the last of it was in her gizzard before turning her head to a 160-degree spin to get a good look at the wolf in question. "If you're gonna walk up to me, you might as well say hello, right?"

The priestess hid a face of amazement as the owl spoke to her. She dropped her hare and looked up at the talking bird. "My mouth was full." She explained. "How did you learn how to speak wolf?" It wasn't everyday that you met a bird who could speak your own language. The religious/superstitious part of her wondered if it was a messenger of Hermaeus Mora, the god of knowledge and memory, brother to Mephala.

Aryn made an inward smile. She loved it when wolves grew curious on how she was so fluent. She closed her eyes and thought for a moment.

"Well, let's see... The first time I saw a wolf, I was three-and-a-half months old, just outta' the nest. I became fluent in understand wolf language around eight months, and then around a month or two ago I decided to learn how to speak it. It was remarkably easy to learn the words, since I already knew 'em. The hard part was making the sounds. 'S hard to, with a beak."

Meldresi was intrigued by the owl. Of course the mouth differences led to some challenge in speaking the words. But that she learned to understand and speak it was remarkable. "What did others of your kind think of you, fraternizing with wolves?" Wolves could be predators to owls if they wished, but they mostly avoided one another. Was her family disapproving of her learning the tongue of canines or did they approve? That was what was really on her mind.

The owl looked away and was silent for a few seconds. Eventually, she glanced back, her marble black eyes looking downtrodden as she hooted softly. Aryn hated the question. Even if it was the first time she was asked by a wolf.

"They have rejected me. I no longer share their surname."

She seemed to sigh. She looked back at the water. "I wish I had been born a wolf. It would've made it easier. I'll never share a mate. I'll never have chicks...

"But, I can't help but be fascinated with the world of wolves."

She looked back at Meldresi with eyes full of wonder. "Every time I see a pack hunt, I almost go yeep. Your hunting techniques, their so.. fluid and smooth. You're like, a school of fish in a river... And when you run in the snow, the way it flies past your feet, it looks almost like you've sprouted wings..."