Marty flew with tired wings in the damp shade of the forest. His coat was entirely of black feathers, and he passed mostly unseen, but sometimes his feathers flickered under shots of sunlight where the leaves allowed. He had left the sea far behind him, and, feeling thirst, he began to pant in the hot sticky air. He picked a nice spot for a rest. It was in the sunlight, but it was nice in that it was an easy perch, a long thin branch stretched like an arm from a shrub, beckoning his aching body.
Marty alighted gracefully, despite his exhaustion. His tail was long, fanning out on descent. He hardly checked his surroundings and immediatel
In a hot wet wood at the middle of the world sat an owl in his dead tree. In his beak was clutched a mouse, caught a few miles away at a more reasonable hour. The noon day sun blared overhead, stinging his eyes. His face was not what one would call pleasant, as his brows met together in an unbreakable scowl, and his fierce squinting didn't help matters much, but through it all he seemed almost giddy.
He waited just outside of the hollow that his mate had made her nest in many weeks before. It wasn't long before her head appeared, looking tired and bedraggled. Blinking heavily, she spied the mouse, and leaped out to take it from her