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The moon laid low in the sky as two owls busied themselves within their hollow at the Great Tree. Both were deep in thought, perched before desks strewn with quills and parchment and accented by books of varying sizes scattered throughout the hollow. Seeing as their first chaw exams were to take place in less than a moon cycle, it was evident these young owls had much to study yet. The smaller of the two, a Burrowing Owl, flipped through a field guide detailing variations in talon-prints of owls and ways to approximate species based on size as he sketched out diagrams in his notes.
His companion, a much larger Great Gray, was equally absorbed within his task, but evidently this task was not study—seeing as textbooks on battle strategy and field rescue techniques remained closed behind him, a thin film of dust on the foremost covers suggesting they had not been opened in some time.
If confronted on the matter, it’s likely Twilight would have claimed there is not much books could offer him that he had not already learned through practicality. This task, on the other talon, was new; one he hadn’t studied in his Orphan School of Tough Learning. And it was one that obviously proved challenging for the audacious owl to master, what with the loud, incessant sighs he periodically exhaled fervently from his chest.
Every such sigh felt like it reverberated through the hollow, and through Digger’s very skull. It was impossible to focus on his studies with—another sigh rang out, this time accompanied by the sound of Twilight loudly shuffling around and tapping his quill on his desk—this going on, and it was really starting to frink him off.
More shuffling and tapping, then another loud, drawn-out sigh. Digger, sighing himself, focused his attention entirely on the sound of his quill pen scratching on the parchment, closing his starboard ear slit to the commotion adjacent to him. This struggle was uniquely his own, as the two were alone in the hollow the Band had shared ever since their arrival to the Tree. While Soren and Gylfie preferred to attend classes offered during the night, Digger and Twilight were best suited for daytime offerings due to their natural activity patterns—meaning some class nights they only had each other for company.
As far as Digger saw it, this was both a blessing and a curse. Twilight had quickly become his best friend and most trusted companion, but loud and boisterous as he was, sometimes his antics were just a bit bothersome.
Digger tried not to let it get on his nerves.
Tap, tap, tap.
Sigh.
Digger failed not to let it get on his nerves.
“Twilight,” he called, still refusing to look up and entertain whatever this was.
The shuffling stopped.
“Yeah?” came the response.
“What the absolute frink are you doing?”
“Digger, my friend,” the Great Gray’s voice quickly rose into a theatrical wail as he launched into a flowery tirade, “Woe, for the spring of verse hath wasted dry! Dost thou not heed the travesty that has befallen thy companion?!”
And there it is. Upon arrival to the Tree and immersion in its artistic culture, naturally poetic Twilight had gained a penchant for theatrics stronger than ever before. Clearly, Digger had been right about him waiting for a prompt to begin his newest act.
“The only thing thy friend heeds currently is you taking a verse and shoving it up your frinking tailfeathers!” Digger shot back. “Seriously, man, I’m trying to study here.”
“A chill to the bone. An ice dagger to the heart! Oh, doth he find no mercy? No love left to spare for a suffering soul?” Twilight raised a wing to his head and feigned dizziness, swaying on his perch.
Try as he might to resist it, Digger could never stop himself from becoming amused whenever Twilight was… well, Twilight. He clearly wasn’t the only one aware of his barely suppressed laughter, given the hint of a sly smirk he caught the corner of Twilight’s beak fold into. Oh, you pelletbrain.
“Alright, alright, fine! I’ll give your suffering soul the attention it so desperately seeks.”
In response, Twilight leaped from his perch, landing in front of Digger with a soft thunk. Bowing his head low to the ground, he swept one massive wing to his side and stretched the other out towards Digger as he raised his head to look the Burrowing Owl in the eyes.
“Thou shalt not regret aiding a wordsmith in his craft, mine brave Guardian-in-training.”
“Yeah, no. Enough with that.” Digger lightly whacked him on the head with a wing, though the gesture was mostly absorbed by the larger owl’s endless mass of feathers. “How about you start by telling me what you’re throwing a fit over?”
“Ah! Erm. Well. You see, uh. Well—racdrops! Y’know what, I’ve said too much already. Forget you heard anything.” The Great Gray suddenly shot back up to his full height, angling his head away from view as he tried to awkwardly shuffle back to his perch.
With no hesitation, Digger lifted a leg and stomped on Twilight’s tail, yanking him backwards with a talonful of feathers.
“Ow! What the frink didya do that for?” Twilight exclaimed, spinning back around to face him.
“Enough with one act doesn’t mean immediately start a different one!” Digger tapped a talon on the floor in modest annoyance to emphasize his point. “Clearly you’re struggling with something, but asking for help would be a hit to your pride. Which would make your copious theatrics an attempt to get me to notice so that you don’t have to ask. Am I right?”
A silent Twilight gave him an offended look as he shifted from talon to talon, which answered that question. Digger’s expression softened.
“Come on, Twi. You know you can trust me with whatever this is. What else is a best friend for?”
Twilight’s only response was to give a very, very, very, long and drawn-out sigh as he slumped back against his desk.
“I can wait,” Digger mused.
“Well… okay,” Twilight finally responded. “I can show you, but heed my words. It is new! It is adventurous! It is… admittedly, not my style, so you must never, ever tell another soul what you see. Got it?”
“Mhm,” he nonchalantly responded.
Twilight slowly reached for the scroll of parchment on his desk, gingerly taking it in a talon and moving to unfurl it. Digger flexed his own talon, shifting to reach out when—
“Hah!” Twilight exclaimed, suddenly hurling the parchment above Digger’s head and out of his reach. “I saw you fixing to grab it and run! You shall not fool me, you conniving scoundrel!”
“I was taking it to read it, you buffoon!” The Burrowing Owl’s feathers puffed up, and he charged towards Twilight, taking to the air to reach out for the scroll with his long legs. “Give it here already!”
“Attack! Attack! An enemy seeks to seize mine life’s work!” Twilight bellowed, pushing aside the smaller owl battering him with wing and talon as he shot across the hollow, barreling through his stack of textbooks as they scattered across the floor. Digger veered around them, flying in hot pursuit as Twilight rose to the higher branches of the ceiling.
“You’re not getting away from me!” Digger yelled, shooting above Twilight with a powerful downstroke before kicking backwards off a branch into a strong leap, folding his wings to his sides as he rocketed into the Great Gray’s back. With a resounding oof from Twilight, they tumbled out of the air together, landing on the floor in a heap of brown and gray feathers.
A featherless leg shot up from the pile, clutching a scroll as the victor quickly bounded on top of the desk to triumphantly display his spoils.
“Ha-hah! Take that! Score one for Digger and his new flying skills!”
Twilight raised his wings in surrender. “I concede,” he spat. “Go ahead, read it. Just lay my gizzard bare for all to see, why dontcha?”
“I will, and I’ll savor every moment of it,” replied Digger with a smirk.
Without further ado, he looked down at the parchment, where the sprawling font distinctive to Twilight’s written endeavors laid out a list of rhymed verses. Most were complete, but a handful were still interspersed with blank spaces and scribbled notes—evidently what Twilight had been fussing over. Moreover, had he not grabbed it directly from Twilight’s talons, Digger would have struggled to believe such a thing could be authored by an owl who otherwise spun brash poetry of violence and vain glory.
It was positively… sappy.
“Huh. You know, a love poem was really the last thing I was expecting here.”
Twilight’s feathers rose slightly in indignance. “It is intended to be sung, mind you.”
“Hmm,” Digger quickly scanned the parchment another time to reenvision the verses as lyrics. “Not bad, then. But I will say, this is quite a change from your usual songs about bashing enemy skulls in with blunt objects.”
“I know,” Twilight sulked. “Which is why, though I truly hate to admit it, I am in need of advice.”
“Well, why not bring it to Madame Plonk? If there’s anyone who could work magic on it, it’s her. Sappy ballads are kind of her thing.”
“NO! Out of the question!” Twilight immediately blurted out, shaking his head vigorously.
“Why? What’s stopping you?” Digger quizzically cocked his head.
“How in the world would I be able to bring this before Madame Plonk, of all owls? I couldn’t even bring myself to show you!” He sighed again. “Besides, it needs a… very specific touch.”
Twilight was looking at him now with an expression of blatant desperation, pleading without words.
Digger stared back at him for a moment before finally letting out a sigh of his own. “Twi, you know I can’t write with the same degree of artistry as you. And frankly, I don’t think anyone can, but that’s just me. What do you think I could possibly do here?”
“Well… I was thinking you could at least share your thoughts. Dissect every line. Tear life from the flesh of my words and swallow them whole! That is what you do best, isn’t it?”
“I suppose you’re right, though you didn’t have to put it that way,” Digger churred. “Fine, I’ll take a closer look.”
“I await your scathing review,” Twilight replied with a bow.
Digger turned his gaze back towards the parchment he held in his talons. He reread the song, this time slowly moving from line to line as he stopped to mull over the feeling contained within each verse and the meaning it contributed to the song as a whole.
And yet, he was so focused on the details that it took him what felt like a pathetically long time to realize. When he finally did, it struck him like a hot coal launched from a blazing fire.
Oh.
Digger looked back up at Twilight, who fidgeted in anticipation as he returned the other owl’s gaze.
“Well, I can’t pretend to know who, or what, this is a love song for, but I can tell it’s important to you. Let’s see if we can’t finish it together.”
“Oh? What happened to needing to study and whatnot?” Twilight taunted.
“Eh, I needed a break from my tracking notes anyway. And this looks like it might just be more fun.”
Much more fun, Digger thought, smirking to himself.
- - -
Some time later, two sets of golden eyes peered down at the parchment before them. The blank spaces had been filled in with much-needed lyrics, and the song was, to the best of Digger’s ability to judge, complete.
The Burrowing Owl turned to his companion. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Why don’t you give it a go, big guy?”
“You mean… sing it to you?” Twilight’s eyes widened.
“Duh! We just put all that work into puzzling out the lyrics you were stumped on. Can’t I hear the end result?”
“Well, I suppose I could sing it…” he mumbled hesitantly.
“You’d better, or I’m plucking all the feathers from your head when you go to sleep.”
“And I mean it,” Digger added when Twilight didn’t respond. “Come oooooon, I want to hear the song!”
“Alright, but you can’t judge me for it,” Twilight finally replied.
He reached for a lute that rested beside his nest, settling back and closing his eyes as he began to lightly strum with his free talon.
Loam and gloam,
a heart alone,
struggle all it’s ever known.
Loam and gloam,
a heart does roam,
always fine without a home.
The words rolled off his beak—soft, gentle, and almost dreamy, in stark contrast to the bold taunts he often bellowed from his chest.
A traveling band, a distant land,
a meeting upon the desert sand.
Thinks so deep, speaks words so true,
ain’t never found one just like you.
Nights flown, moons shone,
love grew deep within the bones.
So it changed, its world fell apart,
the heart was fixin’ for a brand new start.
Twilight’s eyes were now open, gaze fixed intently on Digger as he sang the last few verses. Digger felt a fluttering of wings in his own heart, stronger than anything he’d ever felt before, as he let the lovely sound of the Great Gray’s deep voice envelop him.
Loam and gloam,
a heart has grown,
held gently in soil and stone.
Loam and gloam,
a heart once roamed,
but now it’s got something to call it home.
But now it’s got something to call it home,
if you should have it to call your own.
The last enchanting notes of the melody faded from the hollow, and the two owls were left in the embrace of silence.
After a moment, Digger was the first to break it.
“That was beautiful, Twi. I’d have more to say, but the sheer amount of passion within your performance has truly left me speechless.”
He glanced up at the ceiling, sending the impression he was lost in thought. However, a grin quickly spread across his beak as he faced Twilight again.
“So… who’s the lucky someone you’ll sing this to for real?”
Twilight scoffed incredulously. “C’mon, Digger. I know you! Ain’t no way in hagsmire you can’t tell.”
“Hmm,” Digger pondered out loud. “I’ll give it my best guess. Let’s see… I envision you’ve fallen for… a female Great Gray… twice your size… who’s got pellets for brains and never questions a single frinking thing she’s told. Am I right, or am I right?”
“…”
The expression Twilight gave him was some mix of surprise, amusement, and disgust all at once.
“No. Absolutely not. In fact, that’s so off the mark I think I’m gonna yarp.” Twilight made an exaggerated gagging motion to emphasize his point. “Have you gone mad?”
“Now that you mention it, it would be foolish of me to think such an astoundingly perfect mate for you could ever exist. Maybe you simply sing to the unattainable lady of your dreams?”
“I already know who the guy of my dreams is, and he’s quite real, thank you very much. Though if he keeps up his current antics I fear his status could change.”
“Oh, I see! So a male Great Gray, twice your size, who’s got pellets for brains and never questions a single frinking thing he’s told. My bad.”
Twilight shook his head in disbelief. “I really can’t tell if you’re just messing with me, or if you actually don’t realize.”
“I’ve exhausted my guesses, Twi. Besides your pellet-brained dream hunk, I’ve got nothing.” Digger shrugged, then adopted an exaggerated expression of his own, drawing his wings together in a gesture of mock pleading. “Please, oh please, can’t you just tell me?”
“Digger, you—c’mon, you’ve got to be doing this on purpose! Quit trying to make me say it!”
“Why not? Can’t a guy ask his closest companion who his cruuuuuush is?”
“You frinking—” Twilight glanced at Digger, loudly groaning as he observed the smug expression on the other owl’s face.
“I’m waaaaaaiting,” he intoned cheerily.
“Arghhhhhhhhhhh!” Twilight looked as if he might keel over. “It’s you, ya bastard! The song was obviously for you!”
“Hah! Thought so. Score two for Digger,” he proudly proclaimed.
Twilight closed his eyes in defeat. “And he shows me up yet again. You knew all along, didn’t you? Before I even sang it to you.”
Digger nodded in response. “What else would you expect from me? I should be offended you even considered the possibility I hadn’t caught on right away,” he added with a churr.
“You know, maybe I should just find some hunk with pellets for brains instead of dealing with this for the rest of my life,” Twilight responded, breaking into a fit of laughter that quickly spread to Digger as well, and the two laughed together until they were practically wheezing.
As their suppressed amusement finally began to die down, Twilight straightened up to compose himself, and a more serious demeanor befell him.
“So… what do ya say?”
The words came from his beak with thoughtful clarity, a window to an emotional side Digger had rarely seen him express so plainly.
“I say…” he paused to give the Great Gray a wide grin, “…it’s about time you asked.”
Twilight smiled back, his eyes twinkling like desert stars. “Y’know, I tried not to doubt that you might feel the same way. But it’s just… this… this,” he frantically gestured with his wings, “all of this, this having lasting connections, this feeling—need I say it—is new to me. They didn’t go over this in the Orphan School of Tough Learning, so I’m kind of on my own here. More than I already was, of course. And I didn’t want to come out and state it, just in case I was reading you all wrong, but it seems you already knew how to crack my tough orphan shell.”
His voice rose to a higher pitch as he practically sung his next words with glee. “And that is precisely why I adore you!”
“Well, it’s not like this is something I’ve much experience with either,” Digger replied, taking on the thoughtful look he so often did when he was about to wax poetic himself. “Really, I’d already realized what you’d become to me, but I wasn’t sure how to bring it up myself, so I took the opportunity to goad you on when it appeared. The way I look at it, this is why we’ve got each other. We’ll learn, we’ll laugh, and we’ll figure out how this works together. The thought of doing it all by your side brings me no greater joy, Twi.”
He hopped up on a branch next to Twilight, leaning over to lightly preen the feathers on his head. “I couldn’t imagine a better mate.”
Twilight opened his beak to respond, but Digger quickly cut him off before he could. Adopting a haughty stance, he raised a wing and closed his eyes as he put on his best snooty voice. “Well, besides maybe a peaceful lady who hates battle, despises poetry, and can’t stand to hear music.”
“Why, I oughta write my next song about bashing your cheeky mate’s skull in with a lute when he won’t stop messing with you!” Twilight hooted in response, and they both churred.
“Sorry, mate?” came a voice from the entrance of the hollow. The two froze, looking up to find Soren and Gylfie back from class and staring at them with expressions both joyful and astonished.
“Oh sprink,” Digger said.
…Needless to say, there was a lot of explaining for the new pair to do that night!