Frowley flapped frantically over the heads of the market-goers, scanning around for bright blue fabric or a cheery smile. He’d lost Zuli, and therefore all of his confidence and sense of direction. “Zuli?!” he screeched, ignoring the confused exclamations about a talking owl. He glanced around again, before spotting a humanoid that looked unarmed. He dove down, flapping in their face and looking quite upset, if an owl could manage that. “have you seen a girl come this way? Wingless, ‘yay high? Incessant talking and smiling, wears blue? Please, you must help!”