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The oak trees were vibrant in his grove -- leaves of green, yellow, and stunning red mingled -- as autumn began to sweep in. As the seasons changed only one or two would retain their green leaves for him to use in his divining. Not that lately many kin had come for that. But his thoughts were far from that, far from anything but the annoyance at the abomination of the owlcat that was all riled up. One would think a cheetah or wolf or some predator was slinking around, but he was sure that could not be it.

"Get down here, before I find something to send up after you!" he growled at the beast. Even now he had no idea why he had taken the thing in. It was a nuisance. And it only listened half the time -- if even that. The only use it had was that he didn't have to headbutt the oak tree trunks in hopes of a leaf coming down (if he could not reach them). The damn owlcat often made branches shake, releasing leaves to be used as needed. But not today, not now. He didn't know what the hell was wrong with it.

Which was why he did not hear the doe's calls -- a frog was much quieter than a doe and it was no wonder he didn't hear that. He was not an oblivious buck usually but his attention was focused elsewhere. And it was not until his tail brushed over -- horns? -- that he became aware that he (or rather they) were not alone. He tensed and turned his head, eyes taking in the bright yellow doe and quickly pulling his hind hoof forward in alarm.

"I am uninjured..." he admitted as he took in her frog, perched on her head. He dearly hoped his owlcat never did that. "Somehow I wager you are not so lucky," he commented as he turned to face her and then bowed his head to overlook her. He dearly hoped she was not grievously injured; he was no healer.

Oakheart had no time to respond to her talk, he watched the frog take a leap into a low lying branch and his eyes instantly swung to his owlcat. The creature's noises had ceased but in their wake, it was hunched in what he knew well to be a predator fashion. "You eat this doe's frog and you'll find yourself learning to swim!" he shouted, hoping the threat of water was enough to subdue its instincts -- he really needed to find out what gender the damn thing was.

The yell done with, and the owlcat's position a little more relaxed, he turned to the doe. "I would not call my attempts to speak with my owlcat busy, no," he replied to her previous question. Pets. "You may call me, Oakheart--" his eyes once more drifted upward, "I would have thought a frog would be less bothersome. It appears not."

"Figment of Sunset prefers to roost in the trees," he said. As much as it displayed catlike tendencies, it had a habit of acting like an owl. He quite expected that one day it might try to fly and pitied whoever might catch the owlcat in that endeavor. "Perhaps it is a ghost trait."

His thoughts were taken from his pet by her wish of climbing trees. He could not hide his surprise, as his brows shot up. "That is a wish I have not heard before," he admitted but he supposed it could be nice. He could get his own leaves. "It could be a useful ability, though." Though he much preferred his hooves on the ground.

"You must not be from around here. The kin who live or wander near always seems to neglect how lovely my grove is," he mused. A habit that often made him grumpier than usual, not that she would know. Today he seemed quite cordial.

The statement caused a bloom of warmth in his chest. Few complimented his home and he decided then, he liked this doe. In fact a warm smile spread across his mouth only to falter slightly at her question. "I can divine the past, the present, or future by reading the leaves," he told her. It may how sounded foolish or even like a joke, but his expression was serious. It was not science, it was intuition, and the results were not always quite as definite as those seeking answered preferred but there was nothing he could do about that.

"If you have a question you seek answered, I can see if the leaves have one for you," he offered after a moment of thought. This could go wrong in so many ways, he knew.

"Yes. Yes, I do." Enthusiasm was not a reaction he often found himself receiving. Usually there was laughter or snorts, or the quick demand to show them. And he felt some comfort that she seemed truly interested. But, he, too, knew that the reaction to the reading itself was what often turned kin into sour monsters.

"Oak leaves are the easiest for me to read. The others pose more difficulty for reasons unknown," he explained. It had never bothered him. The oaks were his home after all. His head nodded, "Yes, that is one reason this is my home."

He took in her words, "Any will do but the best is one newly fallen." And there were no shortage of those. "It's best if you pick one," he began, intent on explaining the process but her words overgrew his own and instead he found himself considering a new question.

It was hard to know the answer and he shrugged at length. "It was learned and yet no kin was my teacher." The ability had been in dreams to be sure but he did not know if he learned it from them. Perhaps it was innate and time uncovered it. Perhaps the Motherfather taught him. All he knew was that he knew.

The leaf that had fallen was scarlet and he smiled, that one would do perfectly. "Yes, but you'll need to let it fall to the ground." With his hooves, he cleared the area then looked up to her once more. "What do you wish to know, Firefly Husk?"