Metaphors of a Life Half-Lived
The Owl was the first to lose. The Dog had been her secret companion for a few months, and they were deeply entrenched in love. He was so mature and stable, and she, the headstrong 15-year-old that she was, wanted that stability and maturity that no one her own age could give her. And now he had fallen. Fallen, fighting his own estranged cousin to save all he believed in.
They all grieved. The Wolf, his soul brother, the Phoenix, though she had never really known him. The Cat, his surrogate son, even the Snake, one who had so loathed and reviled him. They all grieved for a man that they had never seen the true depths of. The Owl grieved silently, and alone.
The Phoenix was next. The Wolf, so far into the deepness of despair, ran recklessly into battle, without even the merest of backward glances for those he loved most. He would never again see the moon, fully risen above the trees. Grieving for him was short, for the Phoenix cut her own grieving by jumping off of Hogwarts's North Tower.
The Lion and the Snake, once bitterest enemies, now perfect lovers. Murdered in the night, in their home made of love, by two words cruelly uttered by an unfulfilled soul. The Light lost a spy, and many lost their friends.
The Cat, prophesied savior of all, and the Dragon, spawn of evil, so entwined in their love and each other that any pain one suffered, the other did as well. The Great Enemy learned of this weakness, and exploited it. Such pain was suffered by both young men that both died, ere the World was renewed. The Enemy was vanquished, but the World no longer had its hero.
Now the Owl, last of a cursed generation, alone and grieving for people, the likes of will never be seen again. And she writes her grief of a life half-lived.