It waited, every eye on its body wide and staring intently. A few snowflakes sank down through the hole in the roof. The hole was meant to let smoke out, but the Howl wasn't interested in fire.

It waited. And waited. Finally, it happened.

The little flappy friends flittered down through the roof hole, one by one by one, to land on the giant stinking pile of mackerel. The Howl's tail thumped the floor a few times, and a bright smile lit up its face. The gulls, feasting on fish, took no notice.

It crept closer, unable to resist the way the birds' feathers fluttered in the draft, the smell of the ocean air on their wings, the way they hopped about without a care in the world. One gull cast a brazen glance at the Howl, unafraid, before turning back to peck at its fish a few more times. How the Howl loved the birds.

Suddenly, the heavy door to its cavern swung wide open, and the birds scattered in all directions, swooping out of the roof in a crazed vortex. Enraged, though more startled than anything, the Howl swept aside the remnants of the fish with a mighty paw and whipped around to face this disturber of the peace. Dufa!

"Ah, Howl, you've let your food spoil yet again! I have told you about zis many times over! It is a vaste!"

"Birds," insisted the Howl.

"You prefer fowl now, over fish?"

"NO," roared Howl, heartbroken at the thought of munching on his feathered friends. He lashed his tail in agitation. Dufa sighed.

"Well, I suppose if we love you enough, we'll put up with your mysteries. I shall clean zis up--again!--and fix you a proper dinner. And I'll stay to make sure ze seagulls do not get it!"

The Howl tossed itself down, growling and grumbling.

"No buts! I vill not let anyone go hungry in this clan!"

And with that, he waddled out. The Howl sighed, saddened, and put his head down on his paws. But a little while later, a wandering albatross visited. And The Howl made sure to throw it a cod.