Duck Lake ravens, not ducks

At the question, Alastor had to pause in order to think. What was he good at? His mother had said he was simply splendid at getting on one's nerves at times, but he knew that only to be a joke. He found himself rolling through everything he'd ever done in his head, trying to find things he was good at. He had an excellent sense of direction, that was true, but there was no way to turn that into a game or challenge of any sort. It was just some skill only able to be used when traveling. Another trait popped into his head, one that could be turned into a challenge of sorts. Tracking. Finding things that are lost, or just finding things in general.

"I am good at finding things," the boy finally said. "Animals, plants, lost siblings..." The last one was a joke, the grin that spread across his maw making that quite clear. "We could try and find something, anything, if you're up for the challenge?" To him, it didn't matter what they went on a search for. All that mattered was whether he'd seen it before, or at least caught it's scent once in the past.