March 24th; Morning; Partly Cloudy; 19 ° F, -8 ° C
Construction on the den-site that he had been working on for Quil had been slow for the most part. Apart from the times when he occasionally helped his mother or wandered about just to keep tabs on Cinder or Ryvet, Rook was here, digging away and covering his forelimbs, chest and muzzle with the mud that had come with the spring thaw. What had once been just a simple pit alongside two moderately-sized boulders had become something rather decent. It was a tunnel now just long enough for Rook to step all the way in with only a bit of his plume-like tail showing above ground. As far as he was concerned, it was only halfway done; he had definitely made up his mind that he wanted the underground space to be roomy enough to fit at least three adult wolves inside.
Turning around in the tight space and stepping back out onto the surface, he suddenly felt the odd burning sensation that someone had been watching. His right ear turned sideways as his brow quirked. "Impressed?" he questioned, having expected his beloved or his older brother to come by. But, no one was there... At least, he thought so until he heard the strangest bird noise from somewhere on his left, and it had gone like this: a very alert and inquisitive hooooo hoo?!
Rook felt he must have jumped a good two or three feet in the air but what had come rustling across the melting snow and the damp pine needles was a little hopping bird. An owl, in fact, and by the looks of its feathers it must have been rather young and naive. It ducked its head down to pick up a small twig in its pointy little beak and put it down at his feet. The wolf lifted the paw it had drawn closest to and cautiously stepped out of the tunnel.
It chirped again, staring up at him with its wide, youthful brown eyes. Obviously, Rook wanted nothing to do with it. The teeny-tiny thing was barely big enough to consider an easy snack and he didn't have food to give it. So, why the bird had come bouncing his way was, quite frankly, both odd and irritating.
The owl nuzzled up against the dirtied paw that was still firmly on the ground. Rook switched his arms, lifting his right paw out of its reach and shifting his weight back onto his left. It bounded about beneath him, weaving figure-eights around his limbs. "Oh, good Lord," he muttered, awkwardly trying to evade the bird by taking a few steps backwards.
One of his back paws snagged on a larger evergreen bough that had fallen to the ground and he found himself sitting on the ground with a heavy thump. The feathered thing skittered over to him, continually chirping and nuzzling its forehead into his side. Out of caution, he lifted his tail as he stood up with something of a wince and grimaced at his new "buddy." "Could you go away, please? Can't you see, I'm not a big burrowing owl like you..." The owl insisted on skipping about in the space in front of him, still cheeping about like it had so much to tell him. Out of options, Rook growled at it and even showed the itsy-bitsy bird a bit of his teeth. It hooted back at him and offered him another dried pine needle.
The Lyall gave an exasperated sigh, his lips pursed as he stared at the owlet, "You're a twit."