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Alethia fluffed her feathers, there on the other side of Odd. "We won't have to put up with such close quarters for long, I'm sure," she assured them all. "The storm can't blow forever. What brought you both out on a night like this?"

Drywood's ear tufts sleeked back immediately, along with most of his plumage, but his smile belied the change in his demeanour and merely widened a bit further.

"Oh, but of course! Where are my manners!" He dipped into as much of a bow as he could accomplish from where he sat. "My name is Drywood, an Apothecary. Very pleased to meet you, Mr Odd, and I do apologise for not introducing myself sooner."

On the inside, Drywood was nipping himself. He had been so distracted by his own discomfort that he had completely forgotten to observe common courtesy, and that wasn't good at all. Drywood believed in courtesy. In fact, he lived by it. It was the only way he knew how to hide his... shortcomings.

Clinging to this conversation with some urgency, the brown aberrant peeked around Odd again, aiming his amiable smile at the Ghost lady.

"Oh, I was in the area, looking for some mosses I've been experimenting with, recently. How about yourself?"

"No worries, my friend. The weather and the cold are both pressing matters. Survival is something not to be thought of as trivial. It is a pleasure to meet you and I do hope you found your moss alright... If you wish to stand between us, that would be fine with me... I've got a bit more fluff, I think." He commented worriedly and glanced towards Alethia. "The more warmth, the better..."

Rearranging would take some maneuvering, squeezing past one another and balancing with wings spread so as not to fall off the branch completely. Not that she was adverse, but it would take effort. "Or perhaps you and I could trade places, Mister Drywood," she offered. "The cold doesn't seem to be affecting me as badly and you would have more shelter. Or, you could shift to the middle and be between us both. Zekdek, climb up," she instructed.

The mus scurried to do so, shifting from his huddle by her foot to a quick path up her side and then to nestle between her neck and top of one wing. That way he wouldn't be jostled off the branch if they did move.

"It's miss, by the way," she informed both males pleasantly.

Drywood blinked in confusion. "More shelter? Further out from the trunk? Indeed, madam, if you are worried about me, I think I will do a lot better in here." He gave Odd an encouraging smile. "And I'm starting to feel warmer already. It would be a shame to move about right now and lose what little warmth has been gained."

Feeling that the argument should be over with that, Drywood reached around and preened some moisture out of one wing. Let's see, he had talked about the weather, introduced himself... he groped about for a good, neutral subject of discussion, but found nothing that was neutral enough. His head was full of the experiments he was currently conducting, but he felt that perhaps it was best if he didn't talk about that with two strangers. Their reactions were far too unpredictable.

He kept preening and hoped someone else would try to keep the conversation alive.

"Very creative as a fledgling." Odd chuckled quietly. "Surely you knew it was the Thunderbird? You've heard the tale, right? I'd sing it, but I'm afraid you two might go deaf if I uddered a sound."

Odd felt much more at ease as warmth spread through the trio. The combined body heat seemed just the thing to lift his spirit, despite the driving rain and wind.

"Of course I have," she agreed cheerfully. "But I doubt that your singing is that bad, Mister Odd." She fell silent to listen to Drywood's recitation, then looked a bit surprised. She glanced at Odd and back, then said, "I suppose I was thinking of the things that scared me. Dangerous things. Foxes, anything stealing eggs, Spectres..."

Drywood shook his head as if trying to get rid of an annoying fly. Of course Miss Alethia had merely meant fledgling fears. Foxes and egg-eaters belonged as much as martes and serpes, they had their function, their spot to fill in the natural order of things, yet of course a little fledgling would rather they did not exist.

Her answer was so obvious. Why had he even had to ask? What sort of profound insight had he hoped to gain, anyway?

"Aberrants...?"

Drywood's ear tufts perked up a little and he glanced up at Odd, who suddenly seemed flustered. Aberrant. He had been called that. Of course, by all set standards he was an aberrant, but one of the 'true' types in that his line had bred true for many generations and quite proudly considered themselves a 'type' as valid as any Wildtype or Deep Woods. But the way it had been spoken, that word... Yes. It had too often been given as some sort of explanation, a derogatory definition of him when he failed to fit in. But he was surprised to hear Odd use the word, since he must be hearing it much more often, being of the least respected sort of aberrants - the inexplicable ones. The ones whose oddities could not even be explained away by having a mixed heritage.

Regardless, both Alethia and Odd suddenly seemed... distracted, and Drywood worried that the situation could potentially become unpleasant, so he immediately reclaimed his amiable smile and tried to smoothen the situation over to the best of his abilities.

"Nevermind, it was a silly question. Of course a little fledgling wouldn't want egg-thieves around."