Perched on the edge of the building next door was a large barn owl, staring down at them silently.

"Shit," Hawk said, "It's that fuckin' bird again. We gotta go."

Teige looked up at the edge of the building next door, shading his eyes, and said curiously, "What bird?"

"C'mon," Hawk insisted, and Teige reluctantly changed shape into a stoat, keeping his headlamp eyes on the spot where the owl was.

"A'right, a'right," he said, "what bird, though?"

Hawk didn't answer--he leapt to his feet, shouldering his bag, and plucked Teige off the ground with one hand. The stoat squirmed angrily as Hawk took off laboriously into the blazing evening sky, leaving the faun alone on the rooftop.

"OI," Teige barked, "Watch where you're grabbing, feathers!"