Chapter 1: A Silent, Yet Brave, Spirit
On the western edge of the Southern Kingdoms, a long distance from the Guardians' picturesque fortress, lay the mysterious and oft-maligned Shadow Forest.
Sunlight rarely managed to penetrate the formidable canopy formed by the mighty pines; its mazelike interior was essentially shrouded in perpetual gloom.
Even soft sounds were amplified by the network of trunks and open spaces, boosting their intensity somewhat and granting them an eerie echoing quality.
Isolated from both daily and seasonal changes in external conditions, the forest's internal environment was a self-regulating mechanism.
It stayed soothingly cool during the warmer moons and comfortably warm during the cooler moons.
Though far from a hostile region, it did possess its fair share of intimidating characteristics.
It must be noted that many owls of various species certainly lived there, yet their choice to do so distinguished them from, shall we say, the "average" owl.
One such resident of that dark, peaceful, and misunderstood territory was a Short-eared owl by the name of Camilla. She differed even from her neighbors in a way few owls would describe as positive.
She'd been unable to speak since the time of her hatching.
Her parents, Chloe and Sage, were initially stricken with grief and a sense of powerlessness, but eventually assuaged those painful emotions. They did not view her disability as a curse or punishment for some past transgression they committed.
Glaux had stripped her of her voice for a reason, they realized. It was not their place to understand why, nor did they want or need to. Her parents believed that, in exchange for what she lost, she'd been granted an intelligent mind.
Being their first and only child, they devoted much of their time and effort to raising her and giving her the attention she craved and, frankly, deserved.
In her youth, they taught her how to fly. As she matured and became more capable in body and mind, they taught her how to read, write, and defend herself.
There was a possibility, however slight, that some ill-intentioned owl might take advantage of her inability to call for help and attack her.
At 7 moons of age she left the hollow; rather than be cowed into submission, she viewed the prospect of a solitary existence as merely one of life's myriad challenges.
Fearless and free of all reservations and anxiety, Camilla was determined to show the world just how resilient she was in the face of adversity.
Her parents knew she would go on to accomplish as many great things as any "normal" owl could.
That peculiar sensation, which manifested in their gizzards soon after she tumbled from her egg, lingered even after her departure. It was that feeling that comforted them in her absence and stifled their concerns about her well-being.
Whatever trials came her way, she was resolute enough to overcome them.
Camilla drifted into her hollow midway up the tree in the wake of a productive hunting excursion she initiated at sunset. A gizzard packed full of warm, fresh rodent cleared her mind and helped her to focus.
Bringing out her vine-bound journal – easily her most treasured possession – she flipped to a blank page.
Camilla utilized it to express most of her musings and introspections. Furthermore, it provided insight into her thought processes and views of the world.
In the unlikely event that fate orchestrated her demise, the diary would act as a written record of who she was and a way to preserve her memory.
She hardly enjoyed contemplating such grim occurrences, yet she wanted to leave a detailed tome behind in case she embarked on a one-way journey to Glaux's divine realm.
Picking up her trusted quill, she raised it to eye level and inspected it. The shaft tip had dulled and the shaft itself was bent noticeably, signs of gradual wear and tear accumulated after dozens of repeated uses.
She tossed the aged feather out of the hollow and plucked an outer covert from the dorsal surface of her port wing. She felt a spurt of discomfort but it soon waned.
She proceeded to nibble carefully on the end of the shaft, removing a small amount of material and shaping it into a fine point. She then popped the metal ink pot's lid open and charged the quill with glossy black liquid.
The feather's hollow shaft imbibed and stored the ink, making it a handy reservoir-equipped writing tool.
Tilting her head to one side, she pondered for several moments.
The female owl appeared frozen, but the gears inside her skull rotated steadily as she formulated her newest entry.
At the top of the page, an equal distance from both margins, she wrote: 7th Moon Cycle, Night 15.
Camilla slid the quill tip close to the left edge of the parchment sheet, rested it on the textured surface, and let her thoughts flow.
Fifteen nights have officially passed since I arrived at the Shadow Forest. It feels as if I've only lived here for half as long. I suppose time truly does fly when one adheres to a set routine as I do. My first meal of the night was a savory one: I caught two mice and a nice plump vole. The latter tasted better, to be honest, but I am certainly not complaining. All three morsels were supremely juicy and delicious! My ears might not be as sensitive as that of a Tyto, but hunting those rodents down was quite easy. Anyhow, I've finally acclimated to the unique atmosphere of the area. It is tranquil in an unsettling manner, if that makes any sense. I had little trouble adapting, but I understand why other owls are reluctant to stay here permanently. My parents often referred to me as "a silent, yet brave, spirit." I would argue they chose a significant and fitting nickname, not to mention simplistic.
Camilla turned to the following blank page and continued writing.
That being said, I plan on meeting with the studious owls of the Brad upon completion of this entry. I had very few friends back in Ambala, none of whom accompanied me to the Shadow Forest, so this is my chance to forge new friendships. Regardless of my impairment, I still have my eyes, ears, and talons, all of which I do not take for granted. I am positive they shall not consider me an outcast, as other owls have done. Hm, I think that covers everything I wanted to mention. I tend to ramble on, and the point of this journal is not to house novels. Until tomorrow night, I bid you farewell. May the winds blow in your favor and the stars guide you home, dear reader.
Camilla let out a satisfied sigh and laid the quill gently on the hollow's dense floor.
The runic symbols of the Glauxian language, composed of graceful, sweeping strokes, danced across the parchment.
She had not a penchant for boasting, deeming it crass behavior, but did hold her penmanship in high regard.
Camilla wagered she inherited her style of writing from her mother, whose script was just as beautiful, if not superior, in terms of visual appeal.
Prior to her exodus, she drafted a letter to present to the stewards of the Brad.
The letter went like this: Greetings, my name is Camilla. I have been unable to speak since hatching, and thus I must communicate in written form. I can assure you I am a charitable and friendly owl.
Concise and informative, she felt it conveyed the proper message.
Camilla rolled up the note and stashed it in her trusty botkin, along with the quill and pot of ink. Threading her wings through the straps one by one, she situated it snugly upon her back.
She shuffled to the entrance and inhaled deeply, inflating her breast with the rich, heady air.
Brimming with determination and committed to her mission, the female owl leapt from the rim. Flinging open her splendid wings patterned in chocolate and ivory, she halted her descent and took flight.
Weaving between the haphazard array of tree trunks, she soon broke out of the Shadow Forest.
A quick scan of the glittering pinpricks of light high overhead confirmed she was headed directly east. She banked to starboard until her beak pointed southeast and climbed to a higher altitude.
The featureless tan blotch known as The Barrens drifted on by beneath her. Eventually the pleasing verdant expanse of Ambala crept into view, gilded by the silver radiance of the crescent moon.
Camilla executed a spiraling dive and plunged through the treetops. She knew not the Brad's exact whereabouts and thus gleaned said information from a kind male long-eared owl.
Her gizzard began to tingle with anticipation as if she'd been struck by lightning.
At long last she discovered a magical valley shielded on all sides by impressive heartwood trees. She spotted a few dozen owls scattered throughout the cleft in the earth, some airborne and others on the ground or perches.
Their lively chatter tickled her eardrums and gizzard alike.
A new and exciting chapter in my life shall soon unfold. Oh, how wondrous it will undoubtedly be!