AN: And so, I try to write Wolf's Rain. It's not the one-shot I wanted, but it's definitely something here. I really wanted to do a KibaxCheza thing, but it just didn't work. So this is what I came up with. Sounds a bit ominous and a bit shorter than I would have liked. But it's got potential. Hmmmmm does anyone think it would make a good prologue??

Every moment the forest sat, it grew darker. Tree trunks grew rounder and more gnarled, ebony; rotting foliage formed a dense cloud that blocked sunlight; plants withered to yellow, curling husks; wisps of fog curled in the free pockets of air, suffocating anyone who entered. Slowly overtime the forest was morphing into an entity of utter blackness.

There should have been the catcalls of birds or perhaps the chirp of a wandering cricket or too. But there wasn't. The forest was more abandoned and emptier than the shell of a rotting corpse. It was eerie, to trudge through the darkness and have no idea of what was coming.

A ghostly wind howled it's way though skeletal twigs, moaning cries of pain to anyone who would listen. Branches screamed in shock and terror at the impact of the gusts of air and bits of loose bark waltzed in pairs to the tune all the while. All the figures who trudged their way through the bracken felt the hairs of the back of their necks rise. Something was odd. Something was very odd.

A flash of talon, a sweep of feathers, a voluminous hoot.

It rested not ten feet away from them, peering with a spark of intelligence that was almost human.

It took a deep breath, and even though it was an animal, began speaking.

"When are we born? When do we die?" It ruffled its chestnut feathers slightly. "Why are we born? Why do we die?" A tawny owl perched on a fading branch, its enormous head twisting in its limber neck socket.

"The world has been destroyed and we've fallen countless times, always resurrecting from the ashes as Paradise. It has happened before, and it will happen again. An endless cycle of life and death."

It sat content, preening its feathers while the rest of the world it lived in appeared to falter around it. The limb it rested upon twitched slightly as it continued to lyrically quip, "An endless cycle of life and death. The world is a Paradise that was opened by someone, but this era too is almost at an end. We have acquired the means to exceed our natural span of life, never suspecting that the world itself was finalized in its existence."

There was something odd about the owl's eyes. They had no irises or whites. They were simply black pupils. They were filmed over, an endless layer of the nighttime sky, the faint glimmer the only sign of any life behind them. Had they stared at one place long enough they would surely pierce holes in the trees. "This knowledge has left me in despair, my fate has fallen and scattered like the petals of a dying flower, like the blast from a sand storm it has been worn down and weathered away."

It stretched meaninglessly, preparing itself for flight.

It paused. It had something more to say.

"As if to be purified, the world will be encased in ice so that it can return to the beginning once more."

It raised itself from the branches, hovering slightly. Then it took off.

As it soared into the distance, it called out quickly, "Paradise is a world that is opened by someone..."

It disappeared into the web of forest.