e621.net · 5762901

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The avian rendezvous had gone swimmingly. The parrots were chatty, the birds of paradise were the life and soul of the party and the peacocks were as colourful and lively as could be. As night fell, the drinks flowed. While most of the other birds began to succumb to the effects of the alcohol and sleep, the night birds prevailed: all the crows, owls and ravens began to join in the fun. After a few too many drinks, the heavy winter gear they had brought with them to the mountains began to feel unbearably hot, as if the alcohol had warmed them up. After a few chatty calls and friendly pokes, the few remaining in any semblance of clothing left little to the imagination.

The night soon passed and, as the sun began to rise, even the night birds succumbed to sleep. Among them was a skimpily dressed barn owl who had consumed more alcohol than he could handle.

In his inebriated state, he thought it wise to go outside, get some fresh air and stretch, before quickly going back in. He did just that, but just as he reached the door, he found that it was locked. It hadn't been locked when he came out, so if someone was playing a prank on him, they certainly weren't going to let him back in. Seconds turned into minutes, and soon enough, as the cold began to penetrate his feathery coat, he heard a voice.

A small raptor with a smug smile and a fancy cloak stood behind him. He was barely half his size, yet he looked down on him, talking about how such a pretty thing could get lost like this. The stranger told him not to worry, saying he knew of a secret back door on the other side of the hill and that all he had to do was follow him.

Before he had a chance to answer, the stranger jumped on him — literally. It was like contending with a giant squirrel that could dexterously run around his body from his talons to his neck in a fraction of a second, that came equipped with a snap-on collar and snaggy cuffs, and that had the barn owl all bound up before he had much of a chance to protest.

The night-raptor was flabbergasted for the few seconds it took him to try to free his hands, only to realise that they were as tight as they were resilient. He started to curse this diminutive troublemaker, but before he could finish, he felt a tug.

The damned collar had a leash. And the diminutive bird had a mouth:

“I got promised a ton of credits for exactly you, darling~ Come on now, we ought to get moving, unless you want frozen chicken for breakfast.”

Story by Naphy
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