The lone raven flew and wandered amidst the dark, cold forest in search of nothing in particular. She merely liked the silence and peace the night forest offers. Every animal would be asleep dreaming their little dreams while she lived her dream of having freedom to do whatever she wanted in the night. Here at this silent forest, she could do anything with no judgement from any animal or any other soul.
You see, she was not like the other birds or animals. She was quite cunning and introspective, but perhaps too lost in her own thoughts. It made her special and different, but oftentimes being different makes one alone.
The raven roosted on the branch of an oak tree and looked around. No one. Silence, as expected. Not even the crickets would sing their nightly hymn, nor did the leaves make a rustling noise from the wind. It was still. It was solitude. The raven turned to the trunk of the tree and lifted her claw. She smiled as she faced her new canvas, where anything she could think of could exist in this reality she inhabited. The scratching of the wood emanated throughout the forest, but she didn't mind; after all, no ear was here to hear.
She used her other claw when the first one was tired, then her beak, like a woodpecker, to mark the finer details, though being careful as to not break her precious beak. She only had one in a lifetime, after all. She carved for hours in the night with only moonlight to guide where to mark. Once she felt it was finished, she'd step back and look at it as a whole. It was an image of a beautiful she-wolf, strong, independent, beautiful, and complex. Its eyes were fierce but with a hint of softness.
Each day, she'd carve a new character or figure among these trees because she knows as long as no human cuts them down nor fire burns them into ashes, they will stay here forever, immortal, and as still images of the ideas and passion from her cunning and artistic raven mind. Yet after all the days and hundreds of images carved, no one commended her for it. She had yet to meet an animal who saw it and touched their soul. The raven looked back into the woods, and it was as if everything had stayed the same as it was, even the tiniest of rocks and the fragile leaves. She sighed and began to ready her wings for ascent.
"I find her pretty. Usually they scare me, but now that I look at her for longer, I see how pretty they can be." He spoke with a soft, melancholic voice. His wings had been so quiet when he flew on this branch. The raven realized the myth was real. Owls were the quietest flyers. He had brown feathers that stood out even amidst the dark; his large circular eyes were still stuck in the image she carved. "You make beautiful art. This was one of your best so far."
The raven stood perched for a bit on the branch, shaken by this strange bird's admiration. "You've seen my other carvings?"
He turned his pudgy, fluffy head to hers, his eyes squinted. "I've seen all of them."
The raven's tiny heart beat faster. "But I haven't seen you around here before, nor any other owl for that matter. How come I've never met you despite being a nocturnal animal as well?"
"Because I'm not from here," said the owl. That was an odd statement, thought the raven. She walked closer and lifted her wing to touch his brown body. To her surprise, her dark wings phased through his feathers as if his body were clear water.
The raven stepped back from astonishment and with a hint of fear. "Are you a ghost?"
"No," said the owl.
"Are you not real? Am I dreaming?" The raven asked, shaking.
"I'm as real as anything can be. I'm just not from here." The owl spread out his large wings that made him look like an angel and flew to a branch of another tree. "Come. I'll show you."
The brown owl flew across the maze of the woods, and the raven can't help but follow this ghostly bird. They ended up at the entrance of a small cave. It was so small that not even a tiny dog could pass through, except for an animal of both their sizes. Its entrance was so dark that it brought the darkness of the woods to shame. The owl faced her and spanned his right wing to present it.
