"Cerrit. I'll keep a lookout, then." Birds of a feather and all that.

"Phil has the wings of an owl, and clawed hands to go with it, but no beak." He hopes. Poor man seemed to gain some new owlish feature at every turn. "You'll know him when you look into his eyes and see a well of experience and kindness so deep it makes you want to bare your very soul to him. You could ask for no greater friend."