RE: Rook, a curious burrowing owl fledgling won't leave you alone...
August ???; Early Afternoon; Light rain shower; 50 ° F, 10 ° C.
How long had it been since he had seen Veho? How long since he had found those silvery limbs and tangled himself up in them, discovering that his mottled head fit tucked up against that ashen chest? It was as though the medic had been calling to him through the trees - without sound, without a clue for him to find and any plain wolf to ponder over, without even a single cue apart from the strained feeling of his heartstrings in his chest. His throat felt tight; his stomach was empty, yet full of butterflies. Rook had to see him. He couldn't take it anymore.
The northeast borders had been marked again and, even if the rains had come to wash them all away once more, Rook didn't mind. After this little meeting of sorts, he would redo them as many times as it would take. As long as he was able to see the Macieo for just a little while.
His near water-logged paws brought him through the trees, weaving around the ones that bore his father's old scratch marks and stepping past branches where older trees were harboring their year-old saplings. He knew how to find the old river den by heart by now; but, his favorite way to get there was by making his way from the borders. His territory ended at the stream and from here he walked around until he saw the opening of the infirmary. His heart skipped a few beats as he sampled the air. Veho had to be around here somewhere.
Knowing better than to give himself away, Rook kept his tongue barred behind his teeth; but, in knowing what the medic could very well be up to, he wondered how long he would have to wait. Perhaps he and Titan were out in search of herbs or elsewhere gathering mushrooms. A twinge of jealousy raked over him and he frowned; perhaps if he were anyone else, it could have been him that accompanied Veho into the wilderness beyond the Hollow. Aunt Aniu and Sibyl had taught him some basics; and, even if his father wouldn't initially allow his lookalike son to take up the call of a healer, Rook had thought of it as a back-up plan... if Renier or Ryvet had thought to wrest leadership from their sister Trisden. Tradition, after all, stated that the position go from one generation to the other from father to first-born boy or any other eligible son.
The Leader sat down along the river bank in clear sight, settling to watch the water as he waited. Despite the worries that had cropped up since their last meeting, Rook held enough guilt and emotional weight in his paws to keep him on the shore. There would be no wading about in the river today. There was too many a beloved thing to leave behind. Additionally, he would not want to bring any other doubter's suspicions to light; Grizzly Hollow, within his paws, would not come to ruin if he could help it. It was his responsibility.
A sigh met the quiet babble of the creek, soon accompanied by a familiar sound - a hoot. Rook turned his head to regard a small owlet atop one of the nearby boulders. His brows rose and he shook his head at it, telling it not to come closer. It's wings stretched and it hooted again. The Lyall stood up to leave, pacing in a circle once as the little burrowing owl continued to watch. His paws dragged along the dampened soil; he did not want to have to leave the place without seeing his other significant other.
Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.