your carcass brings all the birbs to the yard

Zeph frowned as his more-than-reasonable-sounding timeline was refuted. How much longer? A week? His beak popped open in a sigh, his feathers fluttering. Okay, he could wait a week. "I feel bad for Mortis, having wings and being unable to fly is no fun." He lamented, empathizing with the weird-looking wolf he imagined Mort to be.

The warlord continued then, seemingly impressed by the chick's size and already offering him a 'job' (whatever that was, maybe it's food). "What's the Armada?" He interjected, blinking. Sirius words interested Zeph, but also added an extra worry to the bird's small shoulders. He turned his beak up toward the wolf in question. "What happens if I get too big, and then I can't fly?" Maybe his bones weren't hollow either, what if he was destined to be a flightless bird on the ground forever, like Mortis?

"Zephyr"