Deepwood Weald Where's North?

Bastien furrowed his brows and lifted his head. His eyes tracked the small bird as it made its way clumsily to a better balanced position. 

"Do you know it is rude to disturb someone when they are trying to... catch some rest?"

Bastien kept his voice cocky but playful.  A standard reply coming from him--filled with sarcasm and playful jest. He listened to the wren's explanation of her...disoriented fluttering. The wolf was actually rather fond of the winged creatures of the forest. They saw what he would never see. In a way he respected them...which didn't hold him back with the taunting.

"You're very perceptive. I am indeed without wings. But with or without wings we are all travelers in this mystery of a world." His voice warmed with a truth that spoke to him. He was a traveler at heart. The true soul of a loaner, a wandering, a sight-seer, a dreamer.

It wasn't often he had a chance to speak to a winged creature. Most fled without question. His guess was the fangs.

"Where exactly are your little wings taking you?" He paused sat up to his haunches. "Or are you too afraid that I might accidentally swallow you whole while yawning to have small talk?" He opened his mouth wide and snapped down as an obvious poke at the relation between hunter and prey. It was a well known truth. Small talk was hard to come by when everyone seemed to be at another's throat.