A feathered figure flapped frantically through the bustling anarchic skies of the thunderous raining storm. His head had to remain forward for his beak to guide him. Droplets of transparent water spattered on his black tux. Another crackle in the sky clashed in the clouds, he had believed that today would be easier than others but the owl folks weren't expecting such severe weather today.

Finally, the small tawny owl found his perch, an old giant tree with ivory bark. His wings tried hard to stabilize, nonetheless, his body plummeted hard onto the landing and he rolled with claws swipping feebly in the air. “Dagr!” Screeched a figure from a higher perch, the brown-gray figure plunged dramatically his pale-yellow eyes glarred at Dagr sharply. “You’re late!” He opened his wings to look larger, “The hunter-talons are waiting for you to sort their kill!” Dagr recognized the boobook owl folk, Liberius, who could not give Dagr a break. The warden-talons often sounded like they constantly had fish scales stuck in their throat.

Dagr recovered, straightening himself up, his orifices gazing at Liberius as he composed himself. “Sorry sir,” Dagr cooed “I will got on top of it-!” Dagr shook water off his wings and immediately took off awkwardly to the sorting branch. Feeling the warden-talons eyes behind him as he did, Dagr mentally cringed.