Owl and Sage have a conversation

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It would be a mistake the underestimate the strength and quality of the mead Owl made from the local honey, and when shared freely, as it was today with Sage, how well it oiled the wheels of conversation.

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Owl and Sage were the eldest of the Elders, besides Ocean that is.  Too old, thought some.  But they were treated with respect and when they arrived for the Gathering a guest hut was waiting for them.  A warm fire in the hearth, comfortable chairs, furs and a few jugs of Owls famous mead was all they needed to make themselves feel at home and they had done that in plenty.  They were sitting now, selectively rooting through the past forty years of their friendship.  Owl cleared his throat, lowered his bushy eyebrows, unfolded his arms and legs, poked at the fire, then looked up into Sage’s rheumy eyes.  “What do you think happened to those young fellas?”  He held his mead with both hands around the mug.

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Sage was a stocky fellow who’d been a logger in his day and had become sort of loose, shambled and disorganized in his old age, like an old hut that needs to have it’s cobwebs dusted out.   He lowered his head further down between his hunched shoulders, as he stroked his white beard. “I dunno.  Could have got drowned, maybe stranded on some sandbar.”  He met Owls’ eyes again. “I really don’t know” he leaned back into his furs, took a healthy sip of his mead and sighed with contentment.

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“Well of course you don’t know!” Owl snorted. “I’m just askin’ what you think.  They’ve got skills, those boys.  If they made it to shore alive they’ve got a chance” he said confidently.  Owl had a gruff under-utilized kind of voice and he always seemed to co-ordinate his thick bushy eyebrows with his speech.

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Sage sighed. ”Course they’ve got a chance!  But there’s a lot could happen to two beached fellas.  Like I said…”

Owl cut him off, eyebrows and forehead aiming for Sage’s nose “Like you said!  You didn’t say anything I don’t already know!” He tilted his chair back, took a rather large wallop of mead, drops of which slid down his beard.

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They stared at the hearth fire, each lost in their own thoughts, taking a nip of mead from time to time.   Owl broke the silence, looking up at his crony. “Heard Doug was taking out his gull for the search.”  Smiles crept into their wrinkly faces, both thinking that Doug’s seagull was as useful as diet at a potluck.  They both chuckled at the thought of Douglas and his bird Gus.  Doug was no disciplinarian and it was Gus who called the shots; which meant that they spent most their time, with Doug on Gus’ back while Gus gorged on whatever seafood he was able to find.  Owl sat silently for a moment ruminating. “Think we’ll have to ask Raven for help?” His eyebrows raised in question.   “I really hate to, but his raven has better eyes than most.  Better than Doug’s gull does. That bird does have some discipline problems" he chuckled. "Gus may be a more docile bird, but he can’t see like Blacky can.”

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“I dunno” Sage shrugged.  “There’s no love lost between Raven and that boy Snail after that carving incident some years back.”  He chuckled to himself, ending in a husky wheezing cough.  “That headpiece Raven commissioned sure did look like him!”

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They both grinned a little mischievously thinking back to the sneering likeness that had angered Raven so much.  Especially when it was inspected by other artisans, who had rated it a true likeness, albeit, unflattering.  Raven had been forced to pay up and he held no love for Snail after that.  Snail and his young family moved on to his wife’s clan after that, sick of Ravens proud but overbearing ways.

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Owl put down his mead, jammed his cane into the fire, wiggling it opening up a peat clump and looked back at Sage. “You’re right about Snail, but I don’t think he’s got anything against Sphagnums’ boy, Cranberry. Least nothing I’m privy to.”  He looked to Sage to see if he had missed some tidbit of gossip about Cranberry.

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“Yah” agreed Sage, nodding his stooped head slowly.  “They’ve not crossed paths enough times for Raven to take a dislikin’ to that boy.”  He nodded slowly, reluctantly. “So maybe we’ll have to ask him.”

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Owl did a half turn towards Sage, nodding “Yeah.  We’ll bring it up at Council; see what the other Elders think.  I mean, of course we’ll send out the search party right quick as well, but I think it’s gonna to come down to asking Raven to saddle up his bird and do a flyover.” He said with some finality.

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“Hey” Sage piped up, “I think that’s what I already said!”  Then he started wheezing like a fish on a hot cooking rock.

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Owl held his spread gnarly fingers out in front of him in a gesture of placation. “Now don’t get your undies in a knot. Don’t want to get you all riled up and start you off on one of your coughing fits. You don’t see me grumblin’ like a grizz just left hibernation. We’ll talk to them tomorrow morning when the search party meets with us Elders; see what they all think”.  Owl sat back, resting in his furs, running his fingers through his beard, lifted his mug of mead to his lips with both hands and sipped, thoughtfully looking off into the distance.  Where were those boys, he wondered.