what'cha cookin'

Visiting the Armada was supposed to be a fun adventure, but so far Zephyr only found himself annoyed at the constant bitter cold. He missed his castle fireplaces, missed the way the chill of the ocean winds felt good in the blistering heat, and almost more then that, he missed Lia's cooking. Zephyr spent his first day of the visitation wandering through the Col's meagre heated tunnels, pressing up beneath torches and trying not to bonk his head on low-hanging ceilings. This was not a space birds thrived, he realized, but it did offer an escape from the winds and after the long walk north, he'd take all the heat he could get.

Wandering further, he encountered a familiar and enticing new scent. Food. Someone was cooking! He spun on his talons, brought his head in line with his shoulders, and ran with wings extended against the tunnel walls towards the temptation. The tunnels were winding and complex, and more then once he turned and found himself in the den of a stranger and was forced to sheepishly back out and redirect. How did wolves find their way down here at all? Lost in the maze of stone, by the time he made his way to the wafting scent, it felt like the avian's stomach was tearing itself open with ravenous hunger. "Please, oh please, is the food gone??" He chirped, ducking his head into the connected cavern and inviting himself inside.