Han Yu crouched.
"Well?" he asked.
"Saw it!" Chitterfang whispered, his high-pitched voice excited but cautious. "Big bird. A white owl. Just sitting there. Staring."
"A white owl?" Han Yu echoed. "That's it?"
Chitterfang nodded vigorously. "White. Very white. Feathers glowed like moonlight. Its eyes were black—completely black, no whites at all. And it had these weird horns. Spiral-shaped. Like they twisted backward from its brow."
Han Yu's brows furrowed. "Spiral horns on an owl?"
That wasn't a common trait. Not among avians, not even among spirit beasts. He mentally flipped through the bestiary lists he'd studied—no match came to mind. Owls were often seen as omens or messengers in folklore, but this one didn't match any known species.
"Did it seem dangerous?" Han Yu asked.
