Hushed Willows Drifter

caw turns his attention back to their visitor in time to watch taikon bristle. he hunches his shoulders instinctively, eyes narrowing, and vrána shrieks, her claws pricking sharper into caw's fur. 

but it must be okay. he is here to speak to the faerie queen and the faerie queen would not want to speak to anyone who was not friendly to the court. still he cannot quite stop from feeling all the feathers threaded into his scruff rise with his neck, and he flicks his tail again, a little sharper this time.

it does not escape him how taikon does not respond to vrána. he blinks, the focus of his gaze unusually direct as he meets the man's eyes. vrána does not like most strangers. this is true! so it makes sense why she keeps clawing at him, but it is also not very polite for taikon to ignore her. would he do the same thing to loinnir? 

caw noses at vrána again, understanding now her complaints, and returns his ruby stare to taikon again with something that is probably as close to distrust as he ever gets.

"will tell faerie queen about whitebark stream. yes," caw repeats. and then, because he has not forgotten his manners even if taikon will not extend them to vrána, wags his tail. it does not exactly go well with his words. "am sorry to hear about whitebark stream. hope you have good luck finding new home."