Orange is an unnatural color to see on a pine tree. Yet here it was, a bold shimmering patch of bright orange splattered on a trunk. Was it juice? The way it glistened as Whilly shifted his head made it appear as if it was a wet splotch of paint; yet, when he reached out to feel it, the texture was nothing like you'd expect... or maybe everything you'd expect, if you're the type that's used to trees with strange patterns.
"...It's dry?" Whilly's bulbous, yellow eyes seemed to somehow grow even larger with this question-- glistening as if in mimicry of the patch's unnatural sparkle. "This isn't a splatter, this is some kind of mark! It's so pretty! When have you ever seen anything like this, Bunber?"
Bunber stood on Whilly's head, anxiously shuffling in place. "Wow! Dry, I wouldn't have guessed." The irritable bird barely bothered to get a glimpse of the orange mark. His eyes-- sunset red and jutting out the sides of his head-- were saving their focus for the darkening woods that surrounded them. His head was jolting to and fro, maximizing for a full 360 degree view of the menacing trees and shadowy shrubs.
Whilly's focus didn't budge, instead he hesitantly sniffed the tree: sap, dirt, nuts... nothing unusual. Often a lack of clues might lessen curiosity, however in Whilly's case this only fuels his questions. "Bunber, It's apart of the bark! None of the other trees are like this." To say Whilly was in awe would be accurate; however, when you get to know him (as is the unfortunate case for Bunber) you'd soon learn his face is just always like that. A curious cat with yellow fur that glows like sunshine, Whilly craves excitement like its candy; and when you're Whilly, excitement can come from the most peculiar of places.
"Must be a weird tree." Bunber finally gave it a glance, his low expectations met.
"A weird tree," Whilly agreed, "or a normal tree hit with a weird substance." He finally ripped his eyes away from the tree and started looking around, searching for a similar mark. Sunset had turned to dusk, and with it Bunber's tolerance to impatience-- and Bunber considers himself a patient pigeon for what he has to deal with. It's not easy being all fluffed feathers and calm coos when you have to ride the shoulder of a hyperactive feline. A predator, by the way, who bares his teeth far too often than what should be comfortable for a ground-dwelling bird such as Bunber. The life of a pigeon is a fearful one; Bunber is lucky to have been blessed with his dark blue plumage, which camouflages himself well with the night and is likely the only reason he's somehow still alive at the ripe age of 5. Ripe for being swallowed up by an Owl, that is.
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With a grunt Bunber left Whilly's shoulder and flew in front of him onto a near branch, putting Bunber the closest he'd get to an eye-to-eye conversation with the erratic cat. "Whilly!" Whilly's ears flattened as he made eye contact, frozen mid-step. Bunber straightened his posture as he continued. "We are not out here to learn about the local plant-life. And the more time we waste looking for a shelter, the closer we'll get to learning about the local wildlife too." Bunber notched his head clockwise for a quick glance behind him, the volume of his lecture then tastefully lowered to an angry whisper. "Maybe you're excited to learn about this place, but I personally don't care for a lesson on the digestive tract of a hawk."
Whilly's frozen position melted with giggles. "Aw, come on, Bunber." He stuck out his arm for Bunber land on. Bunber stiffly accepted this offer, climbing back onto Whilly's shoulder. "You're not gonna get snatched up by any dumb bird on my watch. Have you seen me pounce? I eat hawks for breakfast!" Whilly's claws glistened in the moonlight as he pounced forward, slashing an imaginary foe and sending up a flurry of leaves.
Bunber batted away a stray leaf with his wing. "You eat sparrows," Bunber corrected, his voice growing weak, "and, yes... I've seen you pounce." He gulped.
Whilly laughed loudly at this as he continued deeper into the dark woods. "You know I wouldn't hurt you, Bunber!" Whilly ruffled the feathers on Bunber's head until the pigeon's tiny face almost doubled in size. Whilly laughed even harder at the sight of the spiky tuft he'd created. Bunber did not.