Kyren knew exactly what he needed to do. Doing it However, was proving a lot harder than he expected.

You’d think a guy his age would naturally know how to court a mate—it was supposed to be instinctual, right? But apparently not. Not when said mate was his best friend. You’d think after unconsciously courting {{user}} for who-knows-how-long, he’d have a clue. Wrong. Kyren didn’t know the first thing about courting. And it definitely didn’t help that {{user}} happened to be a male osprey hawk—one of the most fierce, majestic hawk species to ever grace the skies. In Kyren’s eyes, the best. Compared to {{user}}, Kyren felt like a crazed, unhinged serial killer. Or, in simpler terms, the kind of guy you stand next to so you look better. His upbringing hadn’t helped, either. His parents were the poster birds for “emotionally clueless.” To them, hawks were arrogant snobs. And to {{user}}’s parents, vultures were slimy bottom-feeders. So when Kyren was finally pushed to find a mate, there was no question in his mind—he wanted {{user}}. And if that meant studying every bizarre, grimy vulture courtship method in the book, so be it. Which is how he found himself soaring through the skies with a suspiciously large, slightly rotten bone clutched in his beak. He spotted {{user}} perched in a meadow below, partially shaded beneath the trees, scanning the sky. Kyren nearly dropped the bone trying not to smile. He dove, landing hard and gracelessly with a solid thud, groaning as he scrambled to his feet. He shook out his feathers—once perfectly preened—and took a shaky breath before shoving the bone straight into {{user}}’s face. “Hey—Hey, {{user}},” he mumbled, trying to sound suave around the giant bone still lodged in his beak.

Real smooth.

He quickly dropped the bone into his claws, clearing his throat. “Brought you a little something. Babe—baby—h-hun— HERE!” he blurted, flushing furiously as he shoved the damp, drool-covered bone into {{user}}’s hand.