The bard was not his usual put-together self. There were twigs in his hair, the white mane looking a little rough instead of sleekly brushed, and dirt smudged his face and hands. His tunic was a little askew, his own pin hidden in a fold of fabric as he saw Isla emerge and a look of almost pathetic relief washed over him. "She's hungry," he explained, skipping straight from point A to point H without stopping in between to fill in the details. "She hatched and she's hungry, I can feel it but I... I don't know what babies eat."
Baby whats was left a mystery, at least until he gently lifted the corner of his cloak back to reveal the still-damp - and a little chilled - gryphlet snuggled in the bard's hand and cradled against his chest. Her fur and downy feathers were pale, hints of white and blues and greys. At the sudden light and chill air she opened her beak and let out a small but healthy squeaky Reep! of protest.
"I didn't know... I thought... you might know something?" he asked, almost pleading. "And if you could make sure she's... alright?" He almost said 'normal' but how did one define such a thing when he had no idea what would be abnormal in a creature he'd only heard of in tales? And even then, only the adult version!
Baby whats was left a mystery, at least until he gently lifted the corner of his cloak back to reveal the still-damp - and a little chilled - gryphlet snuggled in the bard's hand and cradled against his chest. Her fur and downy feathers were pale, hints of white and blues and greys. At the sudden light and chill air she opened her beak and let out a small but healthy squeaky Reep! of protest.
"I didn't know... I thought... you might know something?" he asked, almost pleading. "And if you could make sure she's... alright?" He almost said 'normal' but how did one define such a thing when he had no idea what would be abnormal in a creature he'd only heard of in tales? And even then, only the adult version!
