Work Text:
The owl was calling, an eerie sound, faintly frightening. Harriet had her front paws on the edge of the hole, the tree's bark uncomfortably rough under her paw pads. She was not, quite, sticking her nose out, but the night air touched her whiskers.
Thelma was waiting behind her, letting Harriet decide when, or if, it was safe to fly out.
They were certain it was the same owl that had so badly hurt James. He kept silent under his brother's comfort; Roger washed his ears while James lay still, one of his wings folded tight and the other limp.

landofspaceandrainbows (cereus) Sun 03 Sep 2023 10:17PM UTC
Comment Actions
Schneefresser Thu 14 Sep 2023 10:16AM UTC
Comment Actions