Rosewater Oasis Concrete colony

Over time, the vulture had begun to return at the same time every day, which was when Tumbleweed set out with a scrap of meat to be left on a boulder. For a week Tumbleweed had been leaving offerings in the same spot, and the boldest of the vultures had come down to seize it for himself, sending others scattering with a wave of her gigantic wings. He only ever brought enough for one- and in doing so, had managed to suss out which of the circling birds was the one in charge, or least likely to be challenged by the others.

He'd followed him back into the desert one day, to see where he nested. It was a mass of sticks and feathers, high in a tree, difficult to spot as all the trees in the area were dead and dried out as well.

He returned to the boulder in the morning, carrying with him both a fresh jackrabbit and a piece of turquoise, feeling that it was time a form of trade be developed now that he had fed the bird 7 solid meals.

observant in her distance, she held the mixed-blood in a curious gaze. watchful of his feedings, silent in her thoughts.

lengthy legs trailed after beige paws. she floated through air when the distance became large between them, but stuck to the ground as her outpost.

the stench of blood lit her path to follow, and her stomach gargled at the thought of rabbit flesh.

lay down your offering furred beast. she would be the one to claim it.

He watched the skies, as he knew the vulture typically descended from above. But it was two large, round eyes that watched him, belonging to one of the smaller kinds of owls he knew- the sort who made its home underground, curiously enough. He didn't imagine he would be very interesting to the creature, though it continued to watch him, its severe mien slightly off-putting. It was just the way birds looked, he told himself. 

He glanced to the skies as the peachy hue of dawn had begun to fade, soon to be replaced with cerulean. he looked back at the owl. "Up a bit late for an owl, aren't you?" He asked, though he had no idea whether the bird was nocturnal, nor was he even certain that it could understand him.

beast spoke, and she felt her feathers turn to quills.

a blink. a moment to deliberate.

silent still, she let balanced legs carry her a pace closer. heart gave a flutter, but her will was cast in iron.

"the day is still young."

for if there was light to be held, there was opportunity to be had.

The bird's voice was surprising to him, considering that owls weren't songbirds and were often known to say only one word. The little owl moved closer and he showed no signs of stirring. After all, he already had a meal, and while he was an opportunistic predator who at times would eat whatever came into view, he saw more potential in keeping some prey alive. Birds were curious, so was he. 

"It is," He agreed. "I thought owls were mostly nocturnal; does this make you a 'day owl'?" He asked, with a light chuff.

the furred brute remained still, and she sucked in a breath of relief. 

but he was chatty, chatty, chatty. she did not wish to speak! she sought only the prize clasped between his fangs. 

"you ask many questions," she let out as she dared to hop a pace closer. "i answer, for a price." 

here she paused as moon-eyes fell to the limp hare intended for another. her price was spoken, her stomach growled.

She hopped closer, brazen for such a small creature! He was impressed, but did not yield his catch to her, and instead clutched it closer to him, laying on the ground so he could hold it to his chest. He set his other paw out before him in a welcoming demeanour, however.

”A meal of this quality deserves answers to better questions,” He wasn’t so interested in learning more about burrowing owls- not if it’d cost him something. But she might have knowledge of other things. He raised an eyebrow to see if she had anything she’d rather offer for information that might actually benefit him.

her eyes lit with a plaguing gleam at his words. feathers ruffled, beak pinched shut into a thin line. 

foolish four-legged beast. 

"then you must ask better questions," she challenged with dispassionate ire. 

she thought him halfwitted, as she did with much of his kind. why waste breath on questions you do not want answered? 

she puffed out her chest with displeasure as she awaited his questions, sight flickering between hare and coywolf.

At first, he'd thought the bird would be impossible to read; their eyes always seemed so bright with hostility. But he began to notice other mannerisms- the way she clicked her beak, the way she ruffled her feathers up...He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to tell if she was happy, but he could definitely tell when he'd begun to strike a nerve. 

"There's a pack Northeast of here, in the desert. I'd like to know what you know about them," He said. A simple question, but one that was important to him.

his question cracked like a whip in the heat of desert air, and she let her beak clatter in thought. 

truthfully she knew little of the wasteland company, but he did not need to know that. she had gathered pieces of information in idle gossip with other fauna of the lowlands, but lacked specifics. no matter, she could forge her own truths.

"they be coyotes. keep to the desert mostly. not fond of wolves," and that was about the extent of what she knew of them. but this information was bland, and she intended to sweeten the pot with her own fanatical beliefs. 

"they are being invaded by the savages of the north," she let out with a wild glint in her eyes. "they come for the land. there be a war soon."

He'd met one, and apparently, that had been enough to represent the entire pack of them. He was about to ask how many of them there were, so he might have an idea of what to expect if they came his way when she reported that they were likely to be under siege, soon. His brow raised. This was news to him, though so long as the pack of coyotes stood in the way, they might take the brunt of the damage from the other pack's warpath. 

"Which company do you think will win?" He asked casually. Surely, an observant creature such as herself would have some inclination, if not preference...He tore off a leg of the hare and offered it gratefully for the information she had provided so far. He wondered if she enjoyed relaying this information; he could have sworn something mischievous had glinted in her eyes.

another question, another frill of feathers. 

her beak remained pursed until flesh was torn from figure and offered as payment. she let out a shrill of satisfaction as she lurched forward to claim her prize. 

"the one that plays both sides," she answered with a cunning whistle. if a smile were able to form on her bill, it would rest there now, eyes knowing — filled with divine gleam. 

war was a fools game, and the victors were those that soared from above.

"Or neither," He mused quietly, a mild smile on his dark lips. Playing both sides and playing neither might lead to the same result, he thought. He could let the two packs duke it out, if both seemed intent to war. He didn't- he would rather have others to trade with, rather than those who wanted to deal in blood. He wasn't keen on causing bloodshed for the sake of gaining power, though dying with a certain amount of notoriety was at least a bit appealing. 

In the end, he was a peace-keeping creature, content to hoard treasures and perceive wealth not from a display of strength, but in the collection of pretty things. The owl before him was certainly an asset, though he could tell she had some disdain for his species. He didn't want to assume she might be as pliable or as likely to be tamed as the vulture seemed to be, though she might surprise him yet. 

"What's your name?" He asked, then.

with flesh now tucked neatly by her talons, she remained only for the opportunity of being entertained. and to her surprise, he had made a valiant effort. 

to play neither side in conflict and watch the chaos as a spectator was indeed an advantageous option in the game of warfare. but where was the fun in that? 

he asked for a name then, and she wondered what good it would do him to know. 

"you've not paid for that information yet," she barked out with pinpoint pupils.

He chuckled. The jackrabbit had been intended for the vulture, but now the owl demanded it. He felt he would get little from her other than cryptic words, and she had already declared what he considered to be neutrality which was enough to give him pause before trusting anything she said. In suggesting that the winning side was the one that played both, he suspected her to be a spy. For who? Perhaps for herself. But she was skeptical enough he thought her unfriendly, unyielding. Amusing, but of little use. 

He tore off another leg and nudged it in her direction. 

The rest he picked up, and wolfed down with a loud cracking of bones. Once he finished, he offered her one more thing: a name. 

"I'm Weed."

he paid the fee, and so she spoke with simple and quick voice. 

"sahara." a name up until now that had been reserved for those of her own kind. 

she hopped forward to snatch the other piece of flesh, eyes wide as she watched him devour the remaining meat. and has bones cracked and flesh disappeared, so did her interest. 

the thin line that had strung up her tolerance snapped with a loud crack. she had nothing to gain, and he had nothing to give. 

he shared his name, but she held little regard for it. 

one leg clasped between talons, the other pinched between beak. she held his gaze for a moment before she spread wings and took for the skies. 

she circled above for a minute, watching if he would remain, before gliding off towards the west.

Sahara. A name which might prove to be useful to him in the future, so he might test out just how often it was that she visited the other canines in the desert. He considered the vulture to be more trustworthy, though he said nothing of the sort as the little burrowing owl fluttered her wings and took to the skies. 

He licked his lips, and glanced toward her once- noticing the elegant silence with which she flew- before he roved off toward the waters, taking note of where her burrow was. He would think on it for some time, if he wanted to share the Oasis with her. She could easily be a spy- but as of yet, he'd very little to hide.