raindrops on roses

The young owl was, to put it simply, thrilled to hear that the fox was actually interested in his art. The last two he'd met who had seen his pieces either stole from them, or did not understand them. It was discouraging both times, as he'd always assumed everyone knew about and appreciated art. Since coming to the Wilds, however, he'd learned that such a thing was not a case in the strange land—he'd also learned that he couldn't find any other owls to share his art with, which had been a bummer. What he learned aside, Keyx was brought back to present day and to the question asked of him. What kind of art did he make? Oh, if only she knew (which she soon would)!

"I make sculptures out of items I find or pick up," he started, wasting no time at all. "Sticks, twigs, stones, mice bones. I use all sorts of things, even the pellets I cough up and my feathers, to make all sorts of sculptures and other pieces of art." Back home he'd been able to do much more, as his parliament held many things to use that the owls had collected from humans over the years. They never stole, though, just took what was no longer needed or things that were being wasted. "If I take my time, I can even use my talons to carve things into trees and stray pieces of bark. Not to mention sticks and the bones from my meals sometimes."