Heiress Loch make way for the duckling

Quentin, you stumble upon a baby bird that has fallen from its nest...
For @Sahalie by request because birbs!

June 2nd; Afternoon; Light rain shower; 65 ° F, 18 ° C.

So far, in the whole of Quentin's career as an aspiring Herbalist, Quentin was starting to fail. All this time within Oak Tree Bend and all he had to 'show' - in the sense of, say, quizzing his apprentice - was the properties of Sweet Grass. What was worse was probably the fact that he wasn't the one who initially or typically checked up on Spiden and her brood. On only a handful of occasions, since she was on her way to spy on the youngest members of the pack anyway, Quentin sent Sahalie with a mouthful of the stuff to bring to the recovering Leader.

Out in the rain, the Connor aimlessly wandered, his nose so overwhelmed with fresh scents and water-saturated smells. His trek ended at the sight of the loch; he had been here before, it was nothing too spectacular - not even with a rippling surface that reflected the shifting gray clouds. He cast the giant puddle a weary glance before turning around. There wasn't too much of anything interesting to keep him there. No mysteries in the deep waters, no curiosity for what lay on the other side of the loch, no treasures to be found on the banks or at the water's edge...

He gave his coat a shake and started walking again, only to be startled by a loud squeak. His ears came up and eyes fluttered as they focused on the ground in segments at a time. He had obviously upset something, but where? Craning his head down, Quentin wriggled his nose, searching the bases of the oak trees for what could have been Spieden's den. It was only when he ducked his head down and into a sparsely branched hedge that he discovered just what it was. Out it tumbled, startled and alone, with two black beady eyes and a brown-striped head.

Duck!

"Awwwwwnooooooo," he griped, staring down at the little duckling at his paws. "No, no, no, no, no..." It started to peeping at what seemed to be the top of its little lungs. "Shhhhhhhhhh," he hushed it, lifting his drenched paw and trying to pat it on the head. "Shh! Shh! SHH!" It scampered over to where it thought it could hide under his tail. Turning about in a circle twice over did nothing as he watched it trail behind him, still making a racket.

With his other paw he tried to sweep the little thing back into its nest. It scrambled the other way and Quentin tilted his head back in frustration and gave the most exasperated sigh he could manage. When he set his eyes on the little bird again, his ears were flat and the corners of his mouth were turned downward. "Ya li'l bugger," he scolded, raising another paw and warding it in the opposite direction even further. "C'mere..." It never ceased squeaking and even now it seemed as if it still wasn't going to obey him. "Please don't," he really could have cried at this point, "Just go to your nest so I don't get a beak in the eye by yer mum..."

q.

(This post was last modified: Jun 02, 2016, 10:09 PM by Quentin.)

Taekwondo (M, W, F) | Rapid-Response Day (Tu) | WoW Nights (F, Sat, Sun)
Beirne may possibly join in any thread Quentin is in at any time, unless requested otherwise.

Like a good apprentice Sahalie was trying to practice the the lessons her teacher imparted upon her. But so far she had only learned of sweet grass. No doubt, it was truly a useful plant. It could sooth sore throats (that no one had currently) and stop a cough (also not afflicting anyone) and help get the yucky placenta out of a she-wolf after she gave birth (not particularly useful any more). Yet even though it was not the most applicable plant, Sahalie had no choice but to rehearse it's uses in her head as she roved towards the loch south of her homelands in search of the three little fluff on broad stalks of grass. More than anything she wished to prove to Quentin that she was worthy enough to learn more—to learn the hard stuff—and that he didn't need to hold anything back. She was a good student. And this was exactly why she was going to go fetch a whole mountain of sweet grass to impress him, passing over whatever threshold was holding her back from learning real medicine. 

For now she only held one tendril in her mouth.

Quentin's scent surprised her quivering nose as she wandered casually through the underbrush. Though there was not exactly a whole bushel in her mouth, there was at least something to show him, and she brightened eagerly. Her feet rose a little higher from the ground, her whole body felt a little lighter, as she trotted towards her dark-faced friend and... the strange quacking sound that seemed to come along with his voice as she neared.

Her head twisted left and right. A giggle fell from her lips. "Kyoo?" she said, her eyes wide as she watched the manchild twirl around in circles, a little duckling hot on his heels. It had certainly taken a liking to him, the small brown and yellow quacker. "It didn't imprint on ya, did it?" Her face was suddenly serious. The tendril of sweet grass slipped from her mouth. If the duck had just hatched and had taken Kyoo for its mother then it might become a problem indeed. 

(This post was last modified: Jun 07, 2016, 02:51 AM by Sahalie.)

"Kyoo?" he barely heard her over the little squeaking thing's rumpus. So, when his eyes finally darted from the downy yellow and brown body to the tips of a pair of dark forepaws and black nails, he gave a start when his eyes lifted to see his apprentice's face. He had yet to gather the mental capacity to question why she had a single blade of grass in her teeth. "Sahalie!" he greeted her, his tone a near-even mix of enthusiasm and shock. A sheepish grin formed on his face and, in a rather delayed fashion, the little duckling started waddling frantically back beneath the rickety shelter that was made up of Quentin's legs and underside.

Her question seemed to strike him dumb and it took several moments before he slowly canted his head down to look at the fluffy duck baby. It stared back, still peeping. Quentin could probably swear on his life that there was a bit of fear reflected into those dark little orbs. "I-- I-yi-yi," he sounded, his grin broadening sideways in nervousness. He hadn't considered the whole imprinting 'business' that took place with avian young; while he had known about it in his hunting lessons, he really only cared for green things and seed pods and the excitement that frogs and turtles provided. Birds, especially the kind with pointy beaks, were generally of little interest to him; and, while he had known about ducks, he'd never had the chance to see a young one up this close before. The Weald he had hailed from was not generally regarded as a pit stop for waterfowl, but when a flock managed to fly close enough, the call went out for a hunt.

"Heh... I really hope not," he made a face. As if to test this guess, he lifted a paw and tried to bat at it - not to actually hit it but to see if it would actually run away. It did. A breath of relief left him but the problem still remained of trying to get the little thing back into its nest while being worried that its parents might come by. Imagining himself as Sahalie's protector could've been one he fancied, but against a duck? He sorely hoped it he really wouldn't get a beak in his face. From a few yards away, the duckling still squeaked, panicked as though Quentin was the very reason why it couldn't get back into its hiding place when it had fallen out on its own accord.

"Y'ever seen a duck before?" he asked, his attention solely on his apprentice now that the little bird was merely a minor problem. Surely, it's parents would be back soon enough, but Quentin was wondering if he might learn a little more or relay a little more information to his younger companion.

q.

Taekwondo (M, W, F) | Rapid-Response Day (Tu) | WoW Nights (F, Sat, Sun)
Beirne may possibly join in any thread Quentin is in at any time, unless requested otherwise.

No matter how she tried to approach her jumpy mentor he always appeared spooked to see her, and so she had mostly given up on tiptoeing around him to come around his front. It didn't matter anyway. Quentin was always lost in his own, nearly impenetrable world that even if she crunched loudly through fallen leaves directly in front of him his head would still fly up and his eyes would be wide. The dark tufts of her eyebrows rose upward, watching the duckling flapping beneath his legs. The girl leaned down as her friend sputtered uselessly and entertained herself with the strangely bold little brown and yellow feather. It quacked neatly in her face before turn around to hide behind one of Quentin's dark legs. She giggled.

The thought of Quentin having to be a stand in mother duck for this poor bird was amusing indeed, but at the same time the girl was quite sure, looking at him now, that her mentor would give himself a stomach ulcer by merely looking at the bird. Sahalie was not sure what his deal was, since it was just a little tiny bird and even the big eagles had never acted in a predatory manner in these parts of the woods. Birds were birds. They did their own thing. And this bird was particularly cute, even if it seemed not to like her as much as it liked the shade of Quentin's form. At least the little thing, for Quentin's sake, ducked its head and moved away when the paw came towards its head. Sahalie was not sure how imprinted birds really acted, but this seemed like a good enough test.

"Mmmm," she considered his question, "In the skies sometimes, yeah. Not up close though, and not this little," she directed this giggle to the little duckling as if it were a part of the conversation. "I mean they're like any other bird, right? Why'd you look so worried?"