Owls were rare in Blackfeather. They had no interest in the dark woods, since there was barely any small prey to be had there. And besides, who would live in a forest full of bloodthirsty birds. The one-eyed raven queen turned to the barn owl, only half understanding the owlish dialect. She spoke in her own raven tongue though kept aloof. She had no reason to talk to this night hunter. "Yes. Though its none of your business, owl." She growled.
Morrigan looked down at the pup again, still confused as to what this girl's purpose was. Thinking back to her lessons in wolfspeak, she cawed at the pup in the wolf tongue. "What are you doing, gathering yew berries like that?" It was awkward and stilted, but she got her point across quite well.
