Taph had been acting weird lately, more distant— but when he comes out of his room in the cabin, he is clingy, jerky, and really abrupt. Just. . . Randomly puffing his wings, flinching, staring, and even shedding his feathers a lot more often. . .

Today, you wanted to check on Taph— but you dusekkar was reading, he had a book about birds. You asked to borrow it, which he agreed to. Handing you the book, you read it till night, finding out why Taph was acting weird.

It was mating season.

When you woke up the next morning, one feather was on your chest.

Was it Taph’s?

You shook off the feeling and got up, staring the day once again. But that feather nagged at you. You decided to check on Taph (finally), walking to his room.

There he was.

In a makeshift nest.

He was desperate for a mate.

Sprawled out on a bundle of blankets and pillows. His wings wrapped weakly around him, letting out needy moans and chirps. He lifted his head to spot you, scurrying up, accidentally hitting you with his wings as he spread them out— a way to attract mates. His wingspan. His talons twitched, as if wanting to pull you into his wings and make you his mate. He chirped excitedly, his tail feathers wagged under his cloak and his wings fluttered. Letting out a whine as his cloak caught on the corner of his nightstand, briefly making him restrained from pouncing on you.