Chatoyant. Pet Solo

The day after Louis left for a cousin's banquet in Switzerland, Vincent said they should probably have a family outing. Maxi raised his head from the morning papers, totally stunned. He swallowed, glancing at his mother. Mélanie looked perfectly normal as she nodded, calmly stirring her coffee.

"That sounds lovely." She observed. "We've barely been out together, just us three, haven't we?" She took a sip of coffee, dark hair shiny under the morning light. "How about the Rhône Valley?"

Vincent agreed. "Nice idea." He put down his fork. "Maxi?"

He had to appear from where he was hiding behind his newspapers. Maxi had no clue when his parents discovered his fondness for this nickname, but now they kind of gave up on "Maximilien" and adopted it when his grandfather was not around. He appreciated it, really.

Plus a family outing?

"Of course." He blinked. "I mean, that would be awesome. When are we setting out?"


The summer of the Rhône Valley was just enchanting. They hiked through the beautiful countryside, spotted lots of vineyards, encountered a multitude of festivals and events, and came across a handful of acquaintances. They stopped for a live jazz performance, and while Vincent headed for beverages, Mélanie fell into conversation with yet another old friend. Maxi originally stayed by his mother's side and smiled politely at the lady dressed in a violet dress until he spotted some reddish thing glittering on a branch amidst the leaves. He squinted.

A remarkably small owl, stuck in a tree?

He mumbled an "excuse me" and hurried over, tilting his head back to have a better view of the situation. The owl seemed young enough. Not adapted to flying yet? Maxi thought, spreading his arms. "Hi. Are you lost?"

He doubted if the owl could hear him over the loud jazz music, never mind understanding human words. But the next second, the owl swooped down straight towards his chest. Startled, he stepped back.

"Wooaah!"

Mélanie and the violet lady turned and looked at him with curiosity. Maxi waved his hand, then pointed at the owl hovering around him. "It's okay, just..."

The violet lady laughed. "Ah, it's her."

Maxi stared at her. Then back at the owl, still actively (haughtily?) fluttering her wings.

"Madame Héloïse is the landlady here." His mother chuckled. "We've been classmates."

"She's the youngest daughter of our family owls, just born a couple of months ago." Madame Héloïse explained. "My husband and I were in Canada a few years ago, and brought back her parents--you know, Eastern Screech Owls are native in that area. Oh, actually, I think she likes you." She smiled.

"Me?" Maxi's eyes widened, wondering if he had misheard because of the energetic and dynamic surroundings. Madame Héloïse laughed again. "She's trying to play with you, and she normally just ignores us." The small owl chirped in return, as if agreeing with her words.

"Why don't you take her with you? I know you'd look after her well. Ah, how you resemble our sweet Mélanie!" She winked at him and his mother.

"Really?" He hadn't had an owl of his own. Or any other kind of pets, apart from the family owls that basically any wizard family would possess.

"Why not?" Madame Héloïse said. "And she doesn't have a name yet, by the way. She flaps her wings and hoots whenever we try to name her. Maybe she'll accept a name from you."

The owl now perched on his shoulder and gave his cheek a gentle peck, as if expectant of his choice. He thought of when he first laid eyes on her, the flash of the red feather under music and sunlight. And the Rhône Valley, where they'd met.

As someone who grew up on a vineyard, he almost immediately came up with it, that kind of grape that originated and thrived in the Côtes du Rhône. They had it in their vineyard, too. The liquor's rich colour was just like her feather, and its captivating smoky and peppery aftertaste reminded him of her.

"Bonjour, Syrah."