The feathery sentry was of the mindset that every new face was a potential new friend - but he never knew quite how his cheery curiosity would be taken by strangers. Reed seemed an easygoing sort herself, thankfully, giggling at Quinn’s distinctly Dad-ish joke and taking his mis-steps in good humour. “Excellent!” Quinn chirped when the puddle pillager agreed to stop for a meal. His grin split into a chuckle when she mentioned having a drink to go with it: “Can’t guarantee it’ll be up to a seafarer’s standards but there’s berry wine around…”
Reed’s voice was pleasant. To Quinnat, most voices were pleasant - or at least welcome, because there was nothing worse than an awkward silence. He listened closely as they moved into the fringes of the forest and glanced over with a look of intense interest when she spoke of her stories. Then Reed posed a question: was Quinn much of a traveller?
“By no means as well travelled as I’m sure you are,” he chuckled. “My travels have mostly been without a choice, unfortunately - doesn’t taste the same as true freedom.” He willed himself not to think of his siblings at that moment. It would do nothing to help either of them and while it seemed Reed was plucky enough to cope, Quinn thought the loss of her own companions might still be too raw to bring up his own painfully absent family.
Before his thoughts could swerve down that very bumpy path, he indicated uphill with his muzzle. “Cache should be just up here...” Sauntering up the incline with his feathers gently undulating, he paused at the base of a tree with a broken bough. He moved in the direction the broken limb was pointing and soon was half hidden, his head inspecting the space between some sizeable rocks. “A-ha!” His voice was triumphant. Quinn backed out of the natural hiding place. His grin had never faltered, only altered: now it was clamped around a plump muskrat carcass. Picking his paws up in a proud trot towards Reed, the Noble deposited it at her feet.
“Like I said, it’s not snapper. It’s more.. gnawer.” He ducked his head, cringing at his second awkward joke of this encounter. “Hey - would you mind telling one of your stories? Sometimes it’s nice to escape reality for a moment.”
Reed’s voice was pleasant. To Quinnat, most voices were pleasant - or at least welcome, because there was nothing worse than an awkward silence. He listened closely as they moved into the fringes of the forest and glanced over with a look of intense interest when she spoke of her stories. Then Reed posed a question: was Quinn much of a traveller?
“By no means as well travelled as I’m sure you are,” he chuckled. “My travels have mostly been without a choice, unfortunately - doesn’t taste the same as true freedom.” He willed himself not to think of his siblings at that moment. It would do nothing to help either of them and while it seemed Reed was plucky enough to cope, Quinn thought the loss of her own companions might still be too raw to bring up his own painfully absent family.
Before his thoughts could swerve down that very bumpy path, he indicated uphill with his muzzle. “Cache should be just up here...” Sauntering up the incline with his feathers gently undulating, he paused at the base of a tree with a broken bough. He moved in the direction the broken limb was pointing and soon was half hidden, his head inspecting the space between some sizeable rocks. “A-ha!” His voice was triumphant. Quinn backed out of the natural hiding place. His grin had never faltered, only altered: now it was clamped around a plump muskrat carcass. Picking his paws up in a proud trot towards Reed, the Noble deposited it at her feet.
“Like I said, it’s not snapper. It’s more.. gnawer.” He ducked his head, cringing at his second awkward joke of this encounter. “Hey - would you mind telling one of your stories? Sometimes it’s nice to escape reality for a moment.”