Zephyr still wasn't a huge fan of the courtyard, though he'd found that if he tucked himself away properly beside one of the walls he could both enjoy the rays of sun while avoiding the harsh chill of wind against his young body. He found himself missing the warmth and security of the castle's roaring fires, luxurious furs, and wind-less rooms but out here was where the food was. Of course there was food inside too, but Zephyr assumed his protector wolves might not take kindly to his raiding the pantry again so soon after he and Basilisk had their way within it. If he wasn't careful, Artorias might think he was too big a mouth to feed - Zephyr couldn't let that happen, so it was time to learn to catch things himself.

Zephyr was very bad at catching things himself. No matter how fast he waddled across the grass, the mice were faster. It was demoralizing to be so far from earning his own meals (and painful with how many times he found himself falling onto his belly in pursuit) and suddenly, raiding the pantry again didn't seem to be such a bad idea. He gave one last betrayed squawk into the crevice the mouse had disappeared within before turning from it, catching sight of the approaching wolf in the distance.

Food. This giant was dragging behind him a corpse of some sort, a species the bird was unfamiliar with but certainly was food regardless. "Hey!" He chirped toward the approaching titan. "Can I have some? Can I? Can I?" Upon both talons the bird hopped closer and closer, barely giving a second thought to the fact that he was aggressively approaching a stranger's dinner. The Hallows had taught him plenty, and one of those lessons was that only tiny wolves were murderous and mean.

"Zephyr"

After catching Basilisk and co raiding the Hallows pantry, the Warlord put aside some time to hunt for the pack. Despite knowing that Artorias expected no such compensation. He enjoyed the exercise of tracking in the semi-unfamiliar territories outside of the Hallows territory. He dragged the antelope into the courtyard by its horns, and stopped near the castle entrance. Pausing to stretch, and turned upon hearing the squeaky voice of a non-wolf.

Zephyrus, his grandson's co-culprit. “Zeph” he said, eyeing the fuzzie bird. His very limited experience with the bird told him he was as much of a bottomless pit as Basilisk was. “Of course… here” he said, ripping open a piece of the antelope, exposing the tender meat inside. After all, he had hunted this creature for the members of the Hallows to enjoy.

As he leaned back, giving Zeph room, Marshal arrowed downwards, flaring out his wings, and landing on Seer’s broad shoulders.


"Sirius"

The food-bearing wolf tore the pelt from the creature and exposed the meat within, and Zeph was quick to stick his beak deep into the flesh to pull out a fresh, bloody piece. Swallowing it and feeling the hunger begin to sate, he took another look at the wolf. "You're Basilisk's guardian." He deduced with a tilt of his head, vaguely remembering the saber-toothed man collecting him after their raiding party.

Attentive gaze shifted between Sirius' face, to the corpse, and then back up to the bird who suddenly appeared upon the wolf's back. "A bird!! A bird like me!!" His stubby wings flapped excitedly at his sides, the food forgotten for the moment. "Why do you have a bird? Does everyone have birds? Does he have a name, too? Does Basilisk have a bird?" It seemed the pairing of avian and canine was not as unusual as he initially thought.

"Zephyr"

“His grandfather” The Warlord explained, watching as the bird tore into the corpse through the opening Seer had provided. He let the bird get a few more bites, and then began to carve away the coat. Exposing much more of the meat, and made no move to shoo Zeph away if he chose to keep eating. The Warlord could work around the bird.

“This is Marshal. He’s been at my side for as long as I can remember.” He explained. He motioned to the vulture, who glided from the Warlords back, and landed near the raptor. “It’s not uncommon for wolves to pair with other creatures. Sometimes it's for companionship, and sometimes it's so that we can train them to fight at our side. Basilisk has a peregrine falcon. One of the fastest birds alive.”


"Sirius"

The wolf began to work around him, exposing more and more of the meat which Zephyr occasionally upon seeing the various internal bits began to tear small taste tests of. Between bites he continued to speak, struggling to keep up with his own excitement between the near-constant hunger. "I hope I get as big as Marshal!" He exclaimed. As he'd suspected, Sirius confirmed that birds and wolves were common friends.

"One day I'm going to fight with Basilisk, we're going to make me a 'harness'-" He enunciated the foreign word carefully. "- and then I can ride into battle on him!" Sirius had said Basilisk already had a bird, but that didn't mean he couldn't take two into battle. After all, Artorias had two companion birds already before he'd taken him in.

"Zephyr"

The Warlord peeled the coat back with his maw, guiding it with a paw, when he suddenly jerked. The coat drove deeper into his mouth, almost choking him. He spat the tough hide back out and coughed once, looking back at the bird. “Harness?” he clarified. His eyebrow twitched, and he couldn’t decide if he was horrified or amused. He tried to picture Azure’s face if someone told him a bird wanted to harness up his prize child like a mule…

The Warlord coughed again. “A harness. Interesting, whose idea was that?” He asked as Marshal let out a sharp, cawing laugh and spread his wings, lifting off the ground and landing elegantly on the Warlords back again.


"Sirius"

From the way the charcoal beast hacked and coughed in surprise, Zephyr deduced that there must be something wrong with his life's plan. Was it the wolf, the harness, or himself the bird? Zeph's feathers puffed out as they did when he was feeling particularly feisty and he doubled down. "It was my idea, and it's a really good idea you'll see. Basilisk can run into battle and I can hold on with the harness and peck and scratch anyone who comes close!" He unleashed a fury of childish feint attacks toward the corpse, displaying his combat prowess boldly and managing to catch himself before he fell face first into it. "But it'd be easier with a harness, less fall-y."

Smoothing out his agitated feathers with a brisk shake of his chubby body, Zephyr began to relax once more. "Do you think Artorias would be mad if I wanted to ride Basilisk into battle instead?" While the young raptor adored his guardian, he felt an odd sort of kinship with the oversized youth who shared his ravenous hunger.



"Zephyr"

The Warlord took a few moments to reflect on the life decisions that had led him here, then shook his head and finished removing the pelt from the meat. He kept the meat resting on the pelt for the moment. He had a feeling Zeph wasn’t quite done yet.

“Sounds like you’ll make a good team” he said. If it got back to Azure, he’d have to do damage control. His co alpha killing the ward of the Hallows pack leader would do nothing good for their relations. Nor his relationship with his Godson. He wondered if Azure would be reasonable about it… a worry for another day.

“I believe Artorias would understand very well if you wanted to learn to battle with a wolf closer to your age.” he frowned for a moment and considered the youngster before him. “It might work well for you in fact. Right now, you wouldn’t have much advantage being on the ground, and your entire fighting style will change once you are old enough to fly - you aren't a flightless bird, right?”


"Sirius"

Zephyr eyed the wolf side eye, trying to determine exactly how convinced he must be to have gone from choking to death over the idea to encouraging them as a team. "We will be." He assured the oversized man with a series of enthusiastic nods of his head. It took only a few more beakfulls of the meat before his hunger had quieted, and Zephyrus stepped back to allow Sirius full control over the corpse and whatever he'd been doing to it.

At the giant's next words, Zeph hesitated. Was he a flightless bird? He hoped not, but he had no way of knowing for sure. "I'm not a chicken." He offered helpfully, ruling out only variant of bird he knew he was not. "Artorias says I'm a raptor." He'd also said that there were lots of raptors like eagles, but not specifically which species Zeph belonged to. When did flight happen? The chick suddenly realized how many questions he had, and how few answers the wolves around him might have. Could he fly now, if only he found something high enough to jump off? "Can I climb onto and jump off your head?"


"Zephyr"

“Spread your wings.” The Warlord ordered in a voice that clearly indicated he was accustomed to leading. It was clear that Zeph did not know what he was. Other than ‘not a chicken’ and ‘a raptor’ which was a rather broad term for predatory birds.

As Zeph did so, the Warlord circled around him. Careful not to step in the corpse as he studied the bird and considered its eating habits. “There’s a great deal of resemblance to Marshal in you. But if you're a vulture, I'd eat my bracer knives. Heads more like an eagle…” he muttered more to himself. “Your wingspan is longer than your body. Definitely a flighted bird, just too big ” he shook his head at the mystery of it. “You're scaled more like Mortis than an eagle, I dare say you might rival his wingspan once you're grown.” he completed his circuit and stopped before the bird again. “Marshal, load him up” he ordered, and the vulture spread his long wings once more and glided down to Zeph. aiming to carefully grab the smaller bird if he didn’t protest.


"Sirius"

The wolf's voice grew authoritative and Zephyr straightened immediately, spreading his underdeveloped wings wide for the wolf to inspect. What did his wings have to do with flightless birds? Did flightless birds not have wings? If that was the case, why did Sirius want to look at them at all? The warlord circled him slowly and Zeph's feathers shrunk in close to his body instinctively, intimidated at being so closely examined by the predator. "Who's Mortis? What kind of bird is he?" The chick struggled to take in the wolf's muttering, though he understood less than half of what Sirius was saying. "Does that mean I'm an eagle-vulture?" He blinked his aqua eyes in confusion, and then suddenly the vulture was given a command.

Zeph pulled his wings back against his body, hunkering down low to the ground as he was picked up by the larger bird. He let out a soft startled peep as suddenly he found himself in flight - or, sort of flight. His wings were still pinned beneath the vulture's gentle talons so he could not outstretch them, but regardless it felt like flying. Before he knew it, he'd been dropped upon the warlords' head with a small 'oof.'

With the recent memory of flight buzzing in his mind he was even more eager to try it himself. He adjusted his small talons carefully as not to hurt the wolf while he stood, stretched out his wings, and then attempted to leap from the head. It was messy and his jump lacked confidence, and as soon as he'd left the stability of the wolf's oversized head he was already regretting it.

He braced himself for a painful landing, but it never came. Was this flying? Hesitantly he opened one eye, finding he was hanging upside down just before the ground. Glancing up, Zeph saw that Sirius had managed to catch him gently by the leg before he'd finished falling. "Thanks, I don't think I'm ready to fly yet."


"Zephyr"

“No, Mortis is my son… a wolf.” He explained, which likely didn’t tell the strange baby bird in front of him much. Honestly, if someone had told him a week ago that he’d be treating a baby bird like his godson's ward, he would have thought them nuts. “He’s an anomaly, born with wings. As far as my knowledge with birds goes, the closest I can identify you to would be a mixture of an eagle, and a vulture, but larger.” he confirmed.

Marshal settled the bird on his head, and the bird leaped. He was brave, you had to give him that. But the Warlord had a feeling this was a lesson the bird needed to learn. There were a great many very tall places to leap from in the Hallows. As the bird fell, and failed to fly, the Warlord swiped at him. Snagging a talon before Zeph could hit the ground. “I agree. Wait for your feathers to come in, and you look more like Marshal” he advised.


"Sirius"

Zephyr found returning to the ground more comforting than he'd expected, wondering how anyone ever managed the bravery to fly. Falling was scary, and he'd barely even fell from any decent height. "Your son has wings?" He blinked in confusion, holding one wing out for himself to inspect, and then imagining it upon the back of a wolf. Zephyr assumed it must look very silly, unless the wings were as big as the wolf himself.

"Can he fly?" Zeph's small head flopped to the side, regarding the charcoal warlord with wonder. If Mortis could fly, his parent must have taught him. That meant Sirius knew how to fly too - or at least how to teach it. Already the flightless chick was wondering how much longer until his own flying lessons could begin. "When will my feathers be ready? Tomorrow? Or the next day?"

"Zephyr"

“Indeed” The Warlord agreed as he gently returned the bird to the ground. Releasing his talon and looking down at the little critter. As for the question of flight - “No. His wings are more decorative. A bird like yourself has hollow bones. It makes you light” he lectured. Having caught and eaten enough birds to know the truth of it. “Mortis is a stocky young wolf the same height as me. His wings would never get him off the ground” But wouldn’t that be something?

He shook his head, and hooked the meat to a tree branch so it could drip dry, throwing the carcass up next to it. “It’ll take a lot longer than that for your feathers to come in. But be patient, and you’ll get there. When you do… the size of you…” The Warlord shook his head in wonder. “If you ever want a job in the Armada, look me up.”


"Sirius"

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"

“It took him a while to get used to the idea” he agreed, remembering some of the hardships it had put his son through. He hadn’t seen any hint that it bothered him now. They were simply a part of him. As much a limb as the Warlord's legs.

“The Armada is a pack, like The Hallows. My godson Artorias leads here, and I lead the Armada much further North than this.” He explained. As for the bird's other question… He considered it for a moment. “I don’t believe that would be the case. Not with your weight and wingspan. You were designed to fly.” he said at last.


"Sirius"