Color Party 3; Chestnut 7

[wallwalker]

Author: Wallwalker
Story: Snow Owls
'Verse: None
Colors: Color Party 3. Jessamy; Chestnut 7. X Marks the Spot
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Sprinting)
Word Count: 500
Rating: SFW
Warnings: References to animal cruelty.
Summary: The owls stay hidden. It's better that way.

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The snow falls. Owls hoot in the night, heard but never seen. It is safer for them that way.

Humans have their legends about this forest, about the birds that only cry when the snow falls. All of them concern guidance, as humans are the only creatures that the owls know of that will not accept their own instincts and thoughts as their compass. They must always seek affirmation, a gift from a higher power to tell them that they are doing things right. They search the world for places where they can reach these guides, following old maps and stories that tell them where they must go, marks that show the way. And this is one of the most-marked places of all.

Some of the legends are more benign. They say that humans can leave gifts for the owls and win their favor, so that they will tell them the way to win their lovers' affection or the place that they must go to fulfill their destinies. So they leave all matter of food here for them, cuts of meat from animals far too large for even a dozen owls to slay and fish from oceans far away. Some of the people wait until their fingers and toes are bitten by the cold, hoping that someone will come to take their gifts; the owls are always wise enough to wait until they are gone, but their gifts are still appreciated, even though they do not move the owls as their givers would wish.

Other legends are harsher, and not nearly so good for the owls. The say that owl blood and feathers are required to scry out the truth of all things, and that the owls must be caught at midnight when the full moon is hidden by the clouds, or that their chicks must be taken from their nests and starved slowly so that their bones can be used to throw lots. The owls know these people from their desperate eyes; they are pitiful men and women, but they will never find what they seek there.

The owls stay hidden, because they are afraid. The humans are only seeking guidance, but the owls only wish to live in peace. And they struggle to survive, to hide their nests and their young, to never let themselves be caught alone by a desperate searcher. And because they are afraid, they call out their reassurances to each other as best they can. They will not destroy us, their calls say. We are going to survive.

They will hide, and they will endure. The legends can't continue forever, and someday, if enough humans fail in their endeavors, this place will fade from their thoughts and from their maps. They will stay away, and then the owls will be able to fly wherever they wish, and their calls will be songs of freedom and happiness again. But for now, they will do what they must, and the humans will not wipe them out.