Be my little flashlight

When it came to friends, Osprey had been raised with a simple truth in mind. If there was even a remote chance that you were going to eat it at some point, don't become friends. Of course, if you exaggerated it, then the only harmless way to live was being a hermit, who made friends with no one. If you stood within lines and had a good and comfortable life - her kind worked really well. She was therefore reluctant to make acquaintances with other predators, prey animals or even birds, who didn't hold the top place in the menu. Because of this she considered all other animals (with few exceptions) not sentient beings.

So, whenever a fellow from the other kind approached and spoke to her, she always received it with mixed feelings. Part wonder and surprise, part arrogance and the feral instinct to kill on sight. Lucky for the brave owl, who had addressed Osprey now, he was a safe distance away. She couldn't harm him, even if she wanted, knowing too well that she would not be fast enough to reach it in time and catch it. Damn those wings and the ease they had, when flying. "Some say they are, some say they ain't," she replied, lying down and eyeing the feathered being with interest. "Why do you ask?"