There once was a wolf. Not a ferocious, snarling wolf like some would expect, but a gentle one. One that had learned may things, but knew that she had much more to learn. She went through the forest, speaking to the spirits of the trees and to the other wandering animals. The wolf talked to them and learned their stories, adding them to her heart. She went from one end of the forest to the other, learning the spider, the fox, and even the shy deer. Then one day, the gentle wolf came across an owl. This owl was alone and silent, and one her body were scars. Deep and long, these scars were etched into her skin. The wolf, curious, went to the tree where the owl was perched and asked,
"Where did you get those scars?"
The owl looked down at the wolf.
"There was a monster that used to live in these woods, long before you were born. He was as tall as the trees and had wings. His name was Malum. I was wandering through a dark, untamed part of the woods when he found me. We locked eyes and I flew the fastest I ever had before. But I wasn't fast enough. Malum snatched me up in his claws and tore at me, making these scars. It was a long time before I was able to escape him, but I did. I flew as fast as I could to the river, where I knew that he could not follow. Once I crossed, I looked back. In that monster's eyes I saw pure evil. We stayed where we were for a long time. Then suddenly, Malum turned and went back to where he came from. No one has seen him since.
I now spend my time here on this branch, watching time go by, slowly and silently. Others have come my way, but when they see these scars, they turn and run, some of them spouting out different forms of scorn. Never before, though, has one come and asked me of my story. For that, young one, I thank you."
The wolf gazed up with wide eyes. Sitting under the tree, with the moon slowly rising, she could see what no other creature could. The scars on the old owl's body began to glow, and the wolf could see that that light came not from the moon behind her, but from inside the owl herself. Perched on her branch, high above the ground, the owl was beautiful. The feathers on her body shining and ruffling in the wind, her deep eyes filled with an equally deep understanding and peace.
"Malum may be gone, but the scars are still here. They always be here, etched on my body as a story that can be read even after I am gone."
The young, gentle wolf then moved on. She began to walk on new trails and learn more things. There are many things that she will remember. One of those things was the wise, old owl.