The finch bobbed and twitched rapidly in its movements. It’s head, like Noah’s, seemingly flicked here and there. Though Noah couldn’t do as much when he was a man, his eyes often did the same flicking and twitching movements when he was assessing a situation or meeting a person for the first time. The Kelvic enjoyed his little friend, all three of them quiet as Noah watched what the finch went about investigating. It almost hopping along as it moved from Noah’s finger up his arm. A smile cracked on Noah’s face as the tiny talons peppered across his forearm’s skin. The further the finch went to Noah’s elbow joint, the smile grew until it parted and a small chuckle came from him.

Stopping, the finch turns its attention to Elann and leaned forward towards her, head jerking and turning as it investigated her silently. Noah watched the bird with the same curious eye, wondering what would happen next. In the next moment the finch tweeted something out to Elann. Noah answered for her, whistling slowly. Turning, the bird set its attention on Noah. The Kelvic whistled again, slowly and being particular about the tone. There was a pause on the finch’s end, yet, after a minute, it repeated the tone in its own way. Noah sang it one more time, emphasizing the ending as if fixing pronunciation. The finch looked at Noah peculiarly before whistling the tone again, pitch perfect but voice different because of the species. Noah tweeted something encouragingly tuned. Then, the finch turned back to Elann and whistled the tune again. Once more, Noah whistled in encouragement.

The finch tweeted out something else to which Noah replied with a slightly different tune. After a bow, the finch hopped back towards Noah’s hand and then pushed off from the fleshy perch to rejoin its kin in the trees to the right. With his friend departed, Noah slumped back to the left, resting his shoulder against the canvas of the wagon’s backing. His head lulled to the side as well and he took a careful breath. 

“Elann,” he said quietly, not in calling but in statement. He repeated the slow whistle again, even slower for Elann’s untrained ears to his avian language. It was a simple two syllable tune, something sharp and singsong. “Your name,” he informed. He was sure all she could hear was the sound of the tune, and wouldn’t truly understand how unique it was to her in the millions of calls that the birds could have, but he saw the significance behind it and could digest each layer of the tune, human or eagle.

“She asked who you are,” he told Elann, sitting straight, a wince on his face. “I created your name and told it to her.” Noah's gaze didn't fall to Elann again, instead looking off to the left where the grass was.