Silvertip Mountain Guide me great wisdom

The wolf looked positively nonplussed to see an owl talk. Comet deduced that this was not one of the wolves that would attempt to tear him limb from limb, wing from wing. It asked a question and he nodded with a secure dip of his head, intending to hear out the answer to his question, rather than interrupt the flow. Most birds could talk, however little flitty ones like sparrows and tits tended to jabber nonsense and fluster about being eaten, whilst magpies and ravens spoke in riddles and kept to themselves. At least, in Comet's humble opinion.

The black-tipped ears of the wolf twitched backwards with concern as he divulged the truth to his panic - a pregnant mate gone from his lands! No wonder he was so lost. "Why didn't you say!" the words burst from his beak unbidden (ridiculous, since Fitz had just said) "we must find her! What time did she leave - do you know? Have you found her scent? Shall I scout from the sky? What does she look like?" He sang all of this to Fitz in one long, breathy monologue without giving room for answer until he had finished. His wing-tips fluttered eagerly.  Once he knew what this wolf looked like he could scout for her, and then they would move a step closer to getting her and the eggs back to her nest.

Of course, he had seen slightly older pups rough-housing once they were allowed to leave their dens, but it didn't cross his mind that they did not start out as shelled eggs buried deep within the ground.