Honestly, despite Chickenbone's quite literal shortcomings, Roan still found himself rather proud of his adoptive son. After all, the other was incredibly impressive for a prey animal that usually possessed no mind at all, and it was clear that he really did want to help. Part of the Soothsayer wished he could've just cast some spell to make it so that Chickenbone could do whatever he wanted to help with, but it was obvious magic hadn't been working for him so far. After all, his stress relief potion had ended up smashed on the ground before he'd had a breakdown, so that hadn't exactly worked, had it?

Thankfully, it didn't seem as though magic would be needed in this situation, since Chickenbone had shapeshifting on his side. Roan had been out looking for his son that morning, padding along to ask the other for his assistance in sorting herbs. He knew he had been following the other's scent train, but when he got to the end of it... there wasn't a squirrel. The siamese found himself staring at the mountain cat briefly in confusion, before he noticed the tiny hat, and sword. He hesitated for a moment before he spoke, his wings shifting a little, "I... Chickenbone? Is that you? You look... different." He didn't mean different in a bad way, but he couldn't help the shock in his voice. He had heard of others shifting into prey animals, but he had never really heard of the other way around.

ROAN Ó FOALÁIN-ROUX - THE TYPHOON - SOOTHSAYER