Golden Glade Cock-a-doodle-bleep

She couldn't really be sure but Bat thought the bird might be yelling at her. She quirked a brow, amusement at least helping to chase away her earlier blues. She didn't know what "nautical" meant but Bat had a pretty good sense of direction. She didn't really know why or how she'd become such a natural at it, though it would certainly be an asset as she grew into her identity as a scout.

"That's north," she replied to the avian's squeaky demands, pointing, "south, east and west." With each word, she used a toe to indicate. Because she didn't really understand her own reckoning of these things, she shrugged, helpless to offer the bird any real advice on orientation. But Bat hoped she'd helped, at least.