Horizon Ridge with many a flirt and flutter

what from below may have seemed like two birds squabbling over meter money, was from above nothing less grave than cold war. bartok hadn't even really established much value on the stupid rock in the first place, but now that someone else wanted it, and wanted it badly enough to take it from him? well, it was the most precious thing he'd ever possessed in his entire life. and it was just... imperative... that he exercised his proprietary right to his property.

the duo bickered mid-air, the raven channeling all of his ire for the intrepidity of it all into drubbing his bill at her feet like a jackhammer to "sweet-talk" her pretty little hooks into releasing their clamp on the stone, and the magpie… well, she was upset? that was about the extent of his knowledge about the current condition of her psyche.

her argument that it was her rock was, as he found, a claim in which citation was essential and not to mention it was also so very wrong because it was his blasted pebble and he had the receipt and he wanted his belongings returned to him instanter.

shav made to spin around to confront him (and presumably ram her beak into his winsome face) and bartok started back to defend his other assets, when the spirited movements dislodged from her hold the object of their mutual desire, and sent it plunging to the estate several hundred feet below.

the raven craned his head to peer downwards, his eyes watching as the pebble migrated due south but his brain unfortunately still buffering. he snapped his head back up and scrunched his brow, a self-satisfied smirk taking over his countenance. "HAA!" he whooped in her face, beak agape, but then it registered. "wait.." he shot another look downwards and was dropped into the lap of panic as he dilly-dallied to the realization that his chattel was no longer anywhere in sight.

shuffling his wings with a squawking gasp, bartok cast himself about with dismay replacing the oxygen in his lungs, and while also probably accidentally boxing shiv in the face with his wings in the delirium of it all, raced – straight as the crow flies eh heh heh – after the object hurtling through the canopy of trees beneath.