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Had Heartsease the ability to read the minds of other rabbits, he would have taken to Oakvale immediately. The philosophy of living life day to day and enjoying it--that's what he espoused.

But alas, he could not read Oakvale's mind. All he knew was that his opportunity to sun himself and enjoy the rare clear, sunny weather had been put to an abrupt, violent end. The sudden thumping put him on edge. He leaped up from where he'd been lying in the sun.

Oh, nothing to worry about. He relaxed as the brown buck announced his story contest. Just a little competition, then.

"If you don't mind a little intrusion by one of the 'hogs', I'd like to listen."

"A thump is more than just a warning, my good sir! It can be used for communication and attracting attention. I know I personally can't help but have a good thump whenever i stretch out my back." He quipped rather cheerfully to the Owsla that threated to remove his ears. It seemed he had attracted two of the more, senior members to his friend's rock. Sparrow now the one who looked almost ashamed to know him, though the speckled runt refused to move, in case Zorn was to utter a message to the land of the living.

Oakvale turned to Heartsease. "I welcome you to the competition.. though you might be too skilled for it to be fair.. Perhaps you'd like to be judge?" He suggested, flicking his ears as he looked around. For now, there seemed little who were interested in story telling, though it seemed he'd be forced to go first by the owsla, anyway. It might be a good idea for him to go first either way.

"Well.. if you really wish for a story.. I shall tell you the story of how the snow is made!" He announced, quite proudly, hoping to catch some attention up on his rock.
"We all know how Frith-rah made the skies, the ground and everything that lives within them. He gives us wind and rain, as he gives us his warming light. But the bitter cold is brought to us by one of the thousand no longer among us today; a dreadful hunter that was quick as lightning, it's piercing howl enough to chill your bones and freeze your very soul. Wherever it ran, it would freeze over any life in it's wake. This creature was known as.. Frost."

He shivered merely mentioning the name, his fur raising on end as if he was already caught up in this Frost's gaze.

Something was afoot, quite literally really, and there seemed to be a gathering around "Zorn's" rock. Bracken couldn't help his curiousity and drew nearer to hear Blackwort's snarky comment. A warm chuckle left the chief's throat as he approached and then settled down, casually stretching out on his stomach to watch and listen.

"I admit, I always do like a good story. Let's see what you've got."

And with that the young aspiring storyteller started into the tale of how the snow is made. The thought even made him shudder for he was never a fan of the snow. He could always tell when it was coming though and the bitter cold it brought was not comfortable. But a good story at least, even if about snow and cold, would likely help ease his currently trouble mind. If only for a little while.

Now that the story was underway, Blackwort sat on his hinds, tattered ears raised as he listened to the story. He began to shiver at the mere thought of the cold, for it was always a hard time of the year regardless of whether one was a rabbit, elil, or woodland creature alike. The black male began to lick his front paws, rubbing his head with them in an attempt to keep himself warm, even though such was entirely unnecessary.

When he noticed the doe looking at him, he raised onto his hinds, fluffing up his fur in an attempt to make himself appear bigger and more heavyset than he already was. Once he was satisfied with his display, his nose began waffing slightly in his curiousity as he tenatively inched towards her.

He stopped again. "Forgive me for interrupting your story, er...." He paused, not knowing the buck's name. He shook his head slightly and continued. "This... Frost you speak of. Was it a homba? a pfeffa? Which of the thousand was it?"

Zoysia swooned a little inside at the Owsla's show. Grinning, she turned her attentions back to the storyteller and the bucks questions about it. She didn't like it one bit, but that was to be expected. She liked stories of love, rescue, does in distress that are saved in the nick of time, wonderful sunny days with good fun and tricks to be had. The more lighthearted stories. Many enjoyed the other type, so she was stuck listening anyway, if for anything, something to do, and attention to be had.

Blackwort's ears were perked now, and he listened to all that Oakvale was saying. After his explanation, the Owsla officer nodded slightly, signaling that he understood. He sat on his haunches as more of the story was told, picturing the scenario in his head. In the back of his mind he knew he would be afraid of such a creature but outwardly showed nothing, knowing full well of his status in the warren. If an Owsla was afraid, imagine what such would do to the morale of the others...

The story made sense to him, though. The signs of winter were obvious before the season was actually setting in. He stayed quiet, nodding, wanting for the story to continue.

The doe's reaction to his show-off display did not go unnoticed however. Occaisonally, the buck's blue eyes drifted back over to her, sizing her up. But he did not move closer - would the other male react? Perhaps put up a fight if he moved closer to her? While Blackwort did have the bulk and power in his hinds to stand his ground very well in any scuffle, he did not actually like to fight if it could be avoided. Blackwort decided in his mind that he would not attempt to scuffle with the other male unless he became unfriendly with him first.