Redhawk Caldera Say it soft and it's almost like praying

The owl paid him little notice as he sat and watched it with sad eyes. He watched as one of its large, rounded wings unfurled and stretched out, revealing long, white feathers tipped with black. It continued to preen, until it seemed satisfied. He saw the claws clench and unclench from the branch, and following a slight crouch, the owl spread its wings and soared off, wingbeats quieter than the breaths Bronco took. And down from the boughs of the hawthorn tree fell a much larger feather, which landed softly alongside the other. It was a fine gift- fluffy and soft, and had landed with its quill pointed down into the snow, so that it stood upright. His heart lurched, and he gazed off after where the bird had gone- but it was out of sight. The meaningful gesture, however, had not been lost on him. 

The fragile beauty of the moment was, however, brought to a close when he heard someone approaching with a quick but heavy step. It didn't sound like how Niamh, Phox or Towhee would walk, but when Fennec came into view she had something in her mouth, and a frustrated expression on her features. He was only a few feet from the den's entrance but silently, he watched as she breezed past him and walked inside. He heard her swear, and he grinned. She poked her head back out into the daylight, and it amused him to see her disappointed that one of her patients was not inside the den, where she figured he should be. Seeing her, in the wake of getting affirmation from the owl, cheered him up significantly.

"Ah seen that chewed-up scratchin' post of yers waulk out of the den earlier," He said, putting on the strangest accent he could think of. He ended up sounding somewhat like Foghorn Leghorn. "May's'll just let that one go- he's nuthin' but coyote meat now anyways." He said, hoping that belittling himself might bring a smile fo her face, if his goofy accent didn't.