Corwin freezes, the folded paper in his hand crinkling up. He's never had anything land on him before, not even a moth. Not even a mosquito. So this is entirely unexpected, and he certainly doesn't connect an owl (that he can't even see properly, to boot) to the fox he met before.

Though he can, at least, assume whatever this is, it isn't natural, because it isn't trying to hurt him. He can feel the sharp claws through his hood and hair, but they aren't pricking his skin, really. Thus, logic dictates this must be at least like Malin, even if it isn't actually her: a sentient being in another form.

So he clears his throat, still holding very, unnaturally still, and says, "Um, hello? I can't see you, but if you'd like a better perch, you may have my arm. It will be much easier to grip, I think, than my head." And to go along with the offer, he extends one arm, aiming for whatever this is to hop down onto it, if it so wishes.