racing the wind

He barely made it in time to the fence post, squishing himself against it and breathing hard from the exertion. A gust of wind blew, catching his soft downy feathers and bringing a chill to his poorly shielded body. Fence posts did not seem to do much to break the wind. The chick deflated, pulling in his feathers and shivering as the voice called to him. "No, I'm not alright, I don't have fur!" Zephyr complained, stomping his small talons in the grass. "Why do wolves get fur, it's not fair." This wolf was a stranger to him, but thus far the majority of canine's he'd met in the castle had all been friendly and given him no reason to fear. Zeph assumed this wolf must also belong to Artorias, and thus fall under the blanket of family and friends who he could trust.

Suddenly a second voice broke through and Zephyr's eyes grew wide as he turned toward the stoat. "I didn't know squirrels could talk!" He gasped, suddenly rethinking the ethics of his favorite meal. Could all prey animals talk? Would they talk to him as he tried to eat them, when he was big enough to hunt? This squirrel was much, much bigger then any his mother owl had brought to him in his nest, but if wolves came in such different sizes then it seemed reasonable squirrels did too. "I'm a bird." His answer eventually came, aqua gaze flicking back and forth between the kind-eyed wolf and the oversized companion squirrel. "I don't know what bird, I think Artorias is trying to figure that out. One of the teeny wolves said I was a chicken, but then she tried to eat me so she might have been lying."

"Zephyr"