SHELL: Shell, here. I was out in the field today and the crows were noisy as anything from the treetops! Last time I heard them like that, they were shouting about a barred owl.
LEAVES: Barred or bard?
SHELL: Now that you mention it, Leaves. Maybe it was a ‘bard owl’. We’re on Yonder Island, after all, and it seems like just about anything can show up. Are bard owls different than bard foxes?
LEAVES: Of course. We–or at least–I–have a way with words. Bard owls play harps.
SHELL: Is … that … so?
LEAVES: You sound like you don’t believe me!
SHELL: Well … you can’t blame me if I … maybe think you’re telling tales.
LEAVES (with a satisfied grin): Hm!
SHELL: Anyway, my mom gets an interlude today. You’ll see me–us, that is–Leaves, and me–again next week.
LEAVES: Bon apetit!
SHELL (off-stage): Leaves, you don’t eat twigs, too, do you?
Read here: Extra! Extra! A Twig For Elinn.