After the werewolf lit the cigarette in the smoldering ashes of Julian's form, there was a shift to the ashes. There came a quiet little chirp from within the pile before a little bird of red and white feathers stuck its head out of the largest mound. It looked around at the all the people around it before he began to flap its wings, trying to claw its way out of the ashes. After a few good flaps, it had pulled itself out of the heap and was slowly shook off what ashes it could. The bird hopped once or twice on the ground before it looked up at Clayton. 

It launched itself off the ground and straight at his head. It chirped and pipped loudly as it grabbed a hold of his hair and pulled, thrashing its head about side to side as it did so. The little bird worked itself up into such a fever that it accidently got itself tangled in his hair and was trying to pull itself free while chirping loudly at him. 

He alternated between pecking and pulling at the hair that had tangled around his tiny little foot and peeking at Clayton's head. Eventually, he grew angry and a little bellow of smoke rose from his feathers before he ignited into a little ball of flames, still pecking at Clayton the whole time. It squeaked and chirped loudly until it grew tired and the flames went out. Little, newly revive Julian still didn't like Clayton.