“Hoo.”
“Who?”
“Hoo!”
“What?”
Then Owlivia remembered. Grandpa Howlard was barely able to speak, so he mostly just spoke in generic Owltongue, in which Owlivia was not fluent. She knew a few expressions here and there, but not enough.
The language of Owltongue was all in the way you hooted. The old-timers spoke it mostly, and they were experts in the field. It was annoying for Owlivia, who was only 12, and was not aware of the nature of Owltongue.
Howlard continued hooting, until Owlivia finally pointed at her ears, and the old owl finally realized what he was doing. He constantly did this, and Owlivia never got used to it. How could she? It was basically a foreign language.
“Gramps, you’re doing it again.” She said, a twinge of exasperation in her voice. She wasn’t all that mad, it was just hard to keep a conversation with him because he constantly switched over to Owltongue and in his old age wouldn’t even notice.
“My apologies, youngun, I’m afraid I can’t stop myself,” he wheezed. He slid his glasses up to his eyes. “Now, where were we?”