I just had to retype this cuz not only am I scatterbrained, but I fuck up everything I type unless I save every five seconds (pardon my french) So, im cutting the autors note short just so i can say that ill probably post the next three chapters to this within the next few days, if not tommorow.

SHOUTOUT TO foxchick1 for reminding me to post this, I just epically failed XD.

Chroma The Haze-Crested Owl

Chapter 8: Still so young

By: MRSDRAGONFIRE911

Chroma awoke with a bump on her head, a ruffle to her feathers, and a metophorical crack in her beak, in other words, not only was she annoyed but that bump on her head probably did more then make her look wierd. Her wings burned from the strain shed out on them before her little 'nap', and she still had to clean that stupid hollow she was supposed to sleep in. She was young, her plumage not fully formed, and she had little time before it was time to sleep. Oh dear, what a predicament.

She leaned forwards, having probably fallen from the branch she had been on when she feel asleep. Apparently it hadnt been as big as she thought. "Augh...I feel like my wings were torn off by raccoons..."She leaned forward on the branch shed been laying on in what could only be desribed as a back bend over the branch. This proved to be a bad move though, considering that the next thing that happened was a beak full of leaves from YET ANOTHER fall. " RACCDROPS how many times am I gonna fall on my beak?!" SHe screeched, untangling a leg from the small branches she was surrounded by.

When she'd completed that seemingly simple task she spread her wings wide, stretching and hearing the joints pop, what a nice feeling that was. Then, with much dread, she took her sore wings and pumped with a bit more effort then usual, lifting her wieght up into the air, soon hovering a few feet above where she had been, unfortunately, getting any higher then that was even harder, as she found herself only rising two inches every flap of her wings. She wasn't even old enough to be 'allowed' to fly yet, her primaries were still a few centimeters short, why was she even flying as much as she was?

When that was over (is it just me or did these two paragraphs just start the same way?...I need to branch out...) and she finally reached the branch right outside 'her' hollow, she gave herself a minute to huff and puff, and rest...she was still an owlet, even if she didn't want to admit it, and she just wasn't big enough, mentally and physically, for all that had happened to her, and for the first time since that night...that awful night...She allowed herself to grieve.

She remained there, on that branch, even as the sun rose, to tired to cry, but to upset to move, sometimes you just have a bad day...or a bad life.

What did I tell you? Like 600 words...lol