Thryn's wings beat rhythmically, barely making a sound as she flapped over the burbling stream. As she thought about it, barn owls didn't really make a flap as they flew. It was more of a whoosh rather than make a crack in the air. Flipping her head about she was curious if anything, or anyone was nearby. After several minutes of nothing Thryn glided gently to her hollow. A crack was in the wood, allowing her to shove a medium-sized stick to provide a small perch for herself. The barn owl had already lined her nest with some moss and a couple of her breast feathers. She was considering moving into here, this place felt like home for her.