Suddenly, the boy happened upon a peculiar creature perched in an old knotted tree. The creatures wrinkled lips curved into a crooked smile. The impish being looked like a fruit left to ripen too long. Still, the boy felt he was agreeable.
“Hello sir,” the boy began, not knowing if the owl would respond. The bird leaned in closer. “I’ve seen you in my dreams. Will you tell me your name?”
“Twill — Names are very powerful here, you see. That is what you can call me. But if you are referring to a pack, parcel, platoon, party, or posse, then we… are called Strix.”