A blazing corona rose above the trees as morning grew near.

 Soon the sun overtook the sky and shined all across the land with its bright morning glow. It was a beautiful weekend in the forest, and in a small opening within the trees was a house, just on the outskirts of the forest.

 From the trees, I saw a young owl boy leave his house—the same boy I am to observe before they come—with his mother following behind. Both were Spotted owls, wearing their hundreds of spots like small, countless holes of sunshine through a log. If I remember correctly, his name was Christopher Lumi. He seemed obnoxiously excited despite the early hour as he hopped and hooted while flapping his wings, his age probably adding to his energy. He was no older than 10–years–old.

 His mother was a tall spotted owl. From what I could see, she wore a morning robe that she clutched shut near her chest so as to conserve warmth. It looked rather comfortable, a very high-quality robe. I was told that my mother had one just like that too.

 I watched as his mother gently rubbed her beak into his forehead and returned back to their home, gently shutting the door and letting the boy go off on his own.

 He had such a wonderful life, and I bet he took it all for granted.

 The owl boy wandered a bit around his large yard before sitting on a rock, waiting. I crouched there on the branch, wondering who he was waiting for…or what. It didn't matter, even if his stillness was perfect, as it was too early to even get close, so I was forced to watch from the shadows.

 One boy appeared from the path that led into Christopher's front yard that was situated in the clearing. He was an owl, just like Christopher, but a different species from him. This one seemed like a horned owl. He was much more energetic than Christopher, an adventurous fun signaled by his missing feathers and numerous Band-Aids.

 “Julian!” Christopher exclaimed as he greeted the boy with a hug. He squeezes him tightly before he hopped back, flapping his wings a bit. “Where’s Aristotle?”

 Julian shrugged. “He’s probably getting ready. It is super early!”

 “I guess. It's just that we all agreed we'd get here early so we can play all day,” he said with a hooted sigh.

 “He'll be here soon.” Julian patted Christopher’s shoulder. A boyish grin appeared across his face as he gazed at the other boy. “Let's get a head start on a game before he gets here,” he said as he stepped back playfully. His tail feathers were fully stretched out as if he was ready to bolt in the other direction.

 A game? At least I knew what I'd be watching for the next few hours: three boys playing. This would be a perfect note of all three of the boys’ behavior—most importantly, Christopher’s. The others and I like to know how they act to easily avoid any obstacles that their personalities bring during the hunt.

 Christopher gave his friend a similar grin, getting in the same stance as Julian. Christopher thought out-loud: “Tag?”

 “Tag it is,” Julian replied. “You're it!” With that, he swiftly turned and ran off, running towards the tree line at full speed.

 Christopher gasped before running after him, going full speed with his arms out.

 The two boys continued to play their game of tag—running, jumping, mocking, and more. They filled the yard with innocent giggles and pants from running. Julian would even trick Christopher by getting close, but running off just at the right moment, making Christopher even more eager to catch up to him. It reminded me of when I was their age—although, I thankfully was not as obnoxious as Christopher. I remember that innocence. I would play every day with my friends, wasting my day with endless fun. They were such good memories; it's almost as if they happened just the other day, as if I could simply recreate them right now if I wanted to.

 But I cannot.

 A third avian entered the yard next. This boy was much smaller than the two, having black feathers and a pair of circular glasses. He seemed like a highly intelligent crow. Not only was it shown by his glasses and the book in his arms, but also by the colorful button-up shirt he wore, alongside his simple shorts.

 Both Christopher and Julian turned to the crow with a smile across their beaks, running up to him.

 “Ari’!” Julian exclaimed, grabbing onto the crow and squeezing him tightly.

 Aristotle cawed as his feathers puffed up from the squeeze. “Hey, Julian…!” he said, gently attempting to push him off as the owl constricted his air.

 Julian unwrapped his arms and gave him a punch on the shoulder, making Aristotle caw once again. He held onto his shoulder and rubbed it. His book was now on the ground.

 Christopher picked up the book and handed it to Aristotle, smiling just as wide as Julian. This made Aristotle smile as he held the book, holding it right under his armpit once again.

 “What book did you bring today?” asked Christopher.

 It wasn't anything flashy or too big. From my view, it seemed to be a simple novel with a gray cover. I don't see too many children reading novels like that anymore. Most prefer to watch the television or to just play video games. It looked like a rather advanced book for a boy his age too.

 “Oh, it’s nothing,” replied Aristotle as he pushed up his glasses. “It's this fun book I found at the school library! It's a true story about the life of this woman from the eighteen-hundreds. It shows all of the problems and conflicts she faced. I really like it,” he explained with a large smile. He was even flipping through the book’s pages and looking at his favorite chapters. “I haven't finished it yet, but Mrs. Corl said that it had a really sad ending. I had to get my parent’s permission to check it out!” Mrs. Corl must have been his librarian or teacher.

 Good God, he liked talking. Within his summary of the book, however, I felt a sting of familiarity. It sounded very similar to another story that I have heard before.

 The crow shut the book and placed it back underneath his arm, now looking at the two boys once again. He looked rather surprised that they had listened instead of interrupting his brief overview of the book.

 Christopher smiled. It obviously wasn't something a boy his age would find interesting, but he didn't want to put his friend down. “That’s cool!” he exclaimed, his excitement making Aristotle smile. “So it's like an auto…autobiology?”

 “Autobiography,” Aristotle corrected.

 Julian teasingly mimicked pushing up glasses on his beak to Christopher, making the two giggle.

 Aristotle rolled his eyes as he saw Julian’s mockery. He chuckled. “I bet you can't even spell ‘autobiography,’” he said as he crossed his arms, giving Julian a grin.

 “Sure I can!” Julian replied. “It's auto…O. T. O. B. I…biah…fine, you win!” He sucked his beak, crossing his arms, making Aristotle chuckled once again but this time at his defeat.

 The crow boy walked over to a nearby rock and placed down his book, looking over to the other two. “We never really agreed on a game we would play today,” he said.

 “Well, me and Julian were playing tag before you got here,” said Christopher.

 “How about hide-and-seek tag?” Julian suggested. “I wanna give Ari’ a chance.” He gave the boy a smug look.

 In return, Aristotle stuck out his tongue.

 The three boys agreed on the simple game and began. They decided to choose the person who was “it” by playing rock-paper-scissors-shoot at best of three, the winner choosing who would be “it” for the first round. The boys decided to play it three ways, making the game go much quicker. After just two times of saying “rock-paper-scissors-shoot!” and some fuss from Julian’s loss, it was down to Christopher and Aristotle.

 “Rock-paper-scissors-shoot!”

 And Christopher won.

 After some cheering, Christopher pointed to Aristotle to be “it,” knowing his lack of abilities. How cruel.

 Aristotle scoffed with his arms crossed. “You both know I’m the slowest,” he said.

 “That just means the game will last longer!” Julian said.

 “Well, that's not fair!” Aristotle replied.

 “Yes it is! You're always not ‘it’ because of that!”

 Christopher smiled awkwardly at their bickering; he came up with a quick solution: “Then it can be infection.” He turned to Aristotle. “So, if you do get someone, they can help you,” he explained.

 Aristotle sighed. “Fine,” he said, forming a grin, “I'll make sure to go easy on you guys.” He giggled.

 “Yeah, right!” Julian retorted with a laugh. “Maybe we'll have to be the ones who have to go easy on you!”

 “We'll see about that,” Aristotle said. “I’ll count to twenty.”

 There were a variety of trees, bushes, patches of grass, and even a telephone pole in the yard for the boys to hide in or besides, so the game would be far from boring. Aristotle decided to lean against the rock he placed his book on to count. The second he placed his head down and wrapped his arms around his peripheral vision, the boys began to hide—even before he began to count. Christopher decided to hide in a bush near the forest surrounding their yard while Julian took a different approach: he decided to hide behind the closest tree to Aristotle with his tail feathers sticking out for all to see. He seemed rather proud as he giggled to himself, not even realizing that anybody could see him.

 “...17…18…—”

 “Count in Mississippi!” Julian exclaimed with a laugh, bringing the same reaction out of Christopher. 

 Aristotle sighed with a light chuckle. “...17 Mississippi…18 Mississippi…19 Mississippi…and 20 Mississippi.” Aristotle lifted his head. “Ready or not…” He turned to his right, seeing those brown tail feathers sticking out from behind the tree. “Here I come!” the crow exclaimed. He was sure to slowly and quietly approach the tree—so quiet that I couldn't hear the grass under his talons—so as to not get Julian’s attention.

 While they played I heard the breeze in the trees. The silence was always so peaceful. I found myself being taken away as I just listened to the nothingness. It's very hard to find silence when with them; it was very refreshing to be here. I used to do just this when I was young: climb a tree to hide. I used to have a bully who couldn't climb, so I always had this advantage for when I needed to disappear. If only I had what Christopher did, I wouldn't have had to run, I would have hid with my parents. That ungrateful brat…

 “HOO!!”

 I jolted back, almost falling off of my branch! I stabilized myself and looked out, seeing as Aristotle had Julian’s tail feathers in his hands, giggling and laughing at the surprised and flustered owl. Julian yanked away his feathers and huffed. Even with a cold grudge, I covered my beak, making sure not to laugh at their play.

 “What was that about me needing to be gone easy on?” Aristotle chuckled to himself.

 Julian grinned playfully. “Whatever, I bet you cheated,” the boy claimed.

 “Only if cheating counts as having your butt” —he teasingly tugged on his tail feathers again— “poking out!”

 Julian pushed Aristotle away and blew a blueberry at him. “Let's just go find Chris’,” he said as he began to already scout the area for the similarly colored owl.

 Aristotle followed behind, checking every patch of grass and hiding spot that he could along the way.

 While the boys searched, my attention was mostly diverted to Christopher. He was a good hider. That would only make it more fun.

 It would definitely be hard to find him. Brown against more brown and green wasn't the easiest to differentiate—well, it wasn't until a single jolt of rustling came from the bush Christopher decided to hide in. The two boys began to approach slowly. Aristotle tried to keep Julian’s giggle fits down.

 Just as they stood a few feet from the bush, ready to make their move, it rustled before the owl jumped from its safety and bolted right towards the forest that was behind him.

 Naturally, the boys chased after him, giggling away and threatening him as they promised to catch up with him. Of course, as promised by himself, Aristotle was slightly following behind.

 I had to keep my eyes on him; he cannot get killed before we take our turns, so I followed close behind, weaving through the branches as quietly as possible while following this trio. God knows what could be in this forest—venomous insects, holes, vines—, I had to make sure he was safe for the time being.

 Not that I cared. This would just be…a less entertaining way of seeing him die. We had so much planned for him during the hunt.

 “I’m gonna get you!” Julian yelled as he was following close behind with his arms reached out. He was certainly catching up with Christopher.

 Christopher briefly turned his head back to Julian and Aristotle with a full smile as he continued to run. As he was an owl, his head turned perfectly around. “Yeah, right! Keep dreaming!” He turned his head forward to watch his step.

 The forest seemed very familiar. I specifically remember the foliage, even if it had grown over time—and even that log—but I could not recall where exactly we were heading. It could just be my own imagination, though. Any forest could look the same as any.

 After just a brief moment of chase, we entered a very small clearing with an old house in the middle.

 “No, not here,” I muttered to myself.

 It was very similar to Christopher’s, but much smaller and much more rundown. It was made to look like a wood cabin on the outside, but a lot of the wood had fallen off and rotted, now covered in moss and mold. All of the windows of the house were shattered by age, allowing the elements and nature to go in as they pleased.

 It was sickening to see just what it had come to after so long; I would have thought that somebody would have bought the property to take care of it.

 Even if I was so young at the time, I still remember walking through those doors. I can't remember my mother and father’s faces, but they treated me so well. My father would come home late just before it was time for my mother to put me in bed. Sometimes I would be allowed to stay up late for dinner. I would hug dad so tight whenever I saw him. I can remember mom and dad’s smiles whenever we were together.

 Christopher approached the house curiously, encapsulated by its age. He was panting like a dog from the run, his feathered face covered in sweat. Yet, he still looked as if he was able to keep running. He then approached the wooden stairs that led to the porch.

 As Christopher stood unaware, Julian ran up to him and tagged him from behind, his momentum pushing Christopher into the stairs. Christopher pivoted on his talon’s ankle and well back, yelping as he fell into the rotting wood.

 Now, he just destroyed my home even further.

 Christopher groaned, lying on the stairs. He looked as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

 “I heard a yelp! Are you guys okay?” Aristotle asked. The crow caught up soon after and looked down at the owl with Julian, panting heavily with him. He turned to Julian. “I knew I should've said something…” he muttered. He then reached down for Christopher's hands and slowly helped him up onto his talons. Julian quickly pitched in and helped.

 “Ah—!” Christopher stumbled and sucked his beak sharply. The boys had to support him by his armpits so that he wouldn't fall over on his back once again.

 What a fun sight to see.

 Aristotle tilted his head as he looked at Christopher’s back. “It looks like your right wing is weirdly bent. I think you might have sprained it,” he said.

 Christopher whimpered, pushing at the boys gently as he stood firm on his talons. His wing was the only thing damaged on his body.

 Julian shook his head as he stood back with Aristotle. “I remember when I sprained my wing. It wasn't fun sleeping.” He gently patted Christopher back. “I'm sorry, Chris’. I didn't mean to push you.” He wore a guilty face as he looked down shamefully.

 “It's okay,” Christopher replied, “I know you didn't mean it.” He crouched down to see the shameful boy’s face. “You said you sprained your wing too, right? I'll be fine! It's just my wing,” he assured with a smile across his face. He stood back up with Julian’s gaze following him now without a look of shame.

 “Thanks, Chris’.” Julian smiled.

 “Of course.” Christopher gave him a warm smile back. He then turned to the home, all three boys looking up at it. “So…you guys wanna go in?”

 “Isn't it a bit dangerous?” Aristotle interrupted.

 “C’mon, don't be such a hatchling!” Julian teased.

 “I’m just saying: it looks really old and dangerous. This wood doesn't look the most supportive, and…it’s really scary looking.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

 Christopher shrugged. “Ghosts aren't real; I think we'll be fine.”

 Julian grinned stepping up onto the first step of the stairs and looked at Aristotle. He imitated ghost noises. “Ooooo! I better watch out or else the ghost will get me! Or the dangerous wood will break!” 

 “You’re not funny!” Aristotle crossed his arms and huffed.

 Julian laughed while going up the stairs, now on the porch. It loudly creaked from the aged and weathered planks. He looked back to Christopher and Aristotle before lifting his hand to turn the rusty doorknob.

 The door slowly creaked open.

 That was my house—my memories. How dare that brat even try to open the door?

 With rage in my actions, I shrieked, “Stay away!” My clear voice echoed through the forest, making sure that all heard me. Impulse drove me as I then reached out from the shadows of the tree with my right hand. The sun on my black feathers singed my skin and flesh—the smell of burnt feathers and fried flesh filled my nostrils—the pain made me scream out as loud as I yelled at the boys, yet my voice was now husky from the pain. I immediately pulled back and squeezed my wrist, looking at the excruciating damage that had been done in just a few seconds of the sun. The pain made me lightheaded, but now the burn lingered hard, stinging me constantly as if hot blades stabbed the top of my hand.

 All that was left was charred flesh and skin, blood, and exposed bone. I could see the bones of my knuckle as my skin had burned and melted away like candle wax.

 The putrid smell continued to linger while making me gag and cough. It was disgusting.

 From my two yells, Julian fell over, falling on his bottom. I was too focused on my hand, but I knew that that was what had happened when I looked up to see him sitting on the porch. The other two were shaken just as much as him, frantically looking around at what had just screamed at them. Christopher was the first to speak.

 “Let's go!” he exclaimed frantically. He turned back to the two quickly.

 Julian stood up and ran down the stairs, grabbing Aristotle’s arm so that he wouldn't be left behind, making the crow caw in surprise.

 Christopher quickly followed suit, following Julian through the same path they took to get to the clearing.

 I swiftly followed behind, albeit less graceful due to my injury. Everytime I used my burnt hand to grab onto a branch, the stretch would cause me pain, making me almost fall to the ground! Yet, I managed to stay up in the trees, only using my left hand and legs to jump between them.

 The boys stopped, panting as they stood in a small group.

 “Uhm…” Christopher looked around. “...I think we're lost…”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Hours passed before the boys finally found themselves in the clearing that led to Christopher’s home. It was now the afternoon.

 Aristotle with tears running down his face sighed in relief, now seeing Christopher’s home. He wiped away his tears and sniffled a bit.

 Christopher looked back at Julian and Aristotle. “See? I told you guys we would find our way back!”

 “Christopher Lumi!”

 It was the voice of a woman. All three boys turned to the house, seeing a tall woman standing on Christopher’s porch. It was his mother, now wearing a red dress instead of a robe. She stepped down onto the path, her steps heavy with rage.

 “Where in the world have you boys been?” she asked sternly, approaching the boys. “Do you have any idea how scared I was? It had been hours since I've seen you boy—I already called all of your parents! You're lucky I was on the phone with them as you three showed up or I would have called the police!” Her voice was gentle in nature, but strong in tone.

 All three boys looked down as they were lectured.

 They couldn't even look at the mother that cared so much for them—the mother I had always wanted—like ungrateful pests. How lucky they were, and they could only look in shame.

 Christopher’s mother sighed, pinching the arch of her yellow beak, the same color that Christopher had. “What were you boys even doing?” she asked as she crossed her arms.

 Christopher looked up awkwardly. “...We were playing tag—”

 “Hide-and-seek tag,” Julian interrupted.

 “Hide-and-seek tag,” Christopher corrected, looking back at Julian briefly with a distasteful face, “and we accidentally ran into the forest. We were only gone for a few seconds, but then we got lost.”

 His mother chupsed. “You boys…” She shook her head. “You boys are lucky you found your way here.” Her eyes turned to Christopher’s wing which was bent awkwardly. “And look at your wing! What happened?”

 “I accidentally pushed him…” Julian admitted while sniffling. “He fell onto his back and sprained his wing.”

 “But it's okay, mom,” Christopher said. “He said sorry! And it doesn't even hurt that much if I don't touch it.” He looked down. “Sorry, mom.”

 “I'm sorry, Mrs. Lumi,” Aristotle said.

 “Sorry, ma’am,” Julian then said. That was the most polite and sincere I've heard him today, save for when he injured Christopher.

 She showed yet another sign of disapproval, sighing as she shook her head. “You're lucky it was just a sprain. Let's go inside, the three of you, so that I can wrap it up.” She began to walk, the boys following close behind like ducklings. “I made you boys some lunch too.”

 The four entered the house, now out of my sight. I had no real way of watching them now as the house was surrounded by the sun like a holy barrier. I've been burnt before, but made sure to be very careful; it had never been as bad as what had happened to my hand before. I couldn't imagine what it would be like if it had happened to the rest of my body.

 Just a few seconds on my hand was bad enough, so a few seconds on my entire body would be unbearable. That is if I even survive the burns.

 For now my best option would be to wait until the sun sets.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The sun had set just below the trees, allowing a wall of shadows to reach out towards the house for me to lurk in.

 It had been pretty boring, waiting here silently as I could only watch through a single window into the kitchen. I would occasionally see Christopher’s mother pass by as she cooked and cleaned, maybe even the boys themselves walking around, but that was about it. I really wanted to leave, but I promised that I wouldn't return until he slept.

 Right as I was about to emerge from the trees, Christopher’s friends swung open the front door and stepped out.

 “Thank you for the lunch and snacks, Mrs. Lumi!” Aristotle said.

 “It tasted really good! I haven't eaten that much in a while!” Julian added.

 “Oh, it's nothing, boys.” She chuckled gently.

 Christopher stepped out onto the porch, his mother standing at the door frame. It seemed his mother had wrapped his sprained wing in gauze, as promised.

 Christopher waved with a big smile. “Bye, guys! I'll see you tomorrow!”

 “See you later, Chris’!”

 “Bye, Christopher!”

 The two boys waved as they began walking off together, following the same path that they had entered on.

 Once they were far enough down the path, Christopher returned inside with his mother.

 I took this chance to climb down from the trees and approach the house. I looked through the same window as before, now having a much closer look.

 The interior of their house was very nice. There were countless picture frames of the family, decorations, and many drawings that were put onto the fridge. The inside was very warm and “homey” to say the least. It was just like my home that the boys had visited—what was left of it at least.

 As the sun slowly moved down, the shadows grew darker and much larger, allowing me to reach other windows of the home. I could see bedrooms, kitchens, their living room, and then eventually their dining room. It was situated in the front of the home, to the left of the porch, with a large, flashy window. I took off my black fedora and peaked my head up, looking into the dining room. It had a large dining room table with a gorgeous tablecloth. There were many shelves and smaller tables against the wall of the narrow room. To the right of the table was the area that led to what seemed like stairs and then the front door ahead of them. To the left was the kitchen where Christopher and his mother were approaching from with food. They seemed to have made baked rodents and some sort of stir fry with insects. It looked so delicious…but I shouldn't even think of it. That's not why I'm here.

 Suddenly, Christopher turned his head to the window. I quickly ducked down and stayed silent, hoping that I wasn't spotted. If he spots me, my cover is blown and this entire hunt is over. It is much easier to prey when they least expect it. They have much less of their wits about them, and it's a fun way to surprise them.

 It's more entertaining.

 “Did dad say he's coming home yet?” Christopher asked his mother.

 “Just a few more minutes, dear. He said that he’s staying a little late today,” his mother replied.

 I sighed in relief. At least he didn't see me. Though, his father can, and I'm right at the front door. I snuck to the side and placed my hat back on as I stood up, dusting myself off. Where should I watch from? I asked myself. Maybe I should wait until his father gets home. It should be darker by then, so nobody would even see me in the window.

 I nodded to myself and returned back to the forest. His mother said that it should be a bit before he returned, so I have an even more exciting wait ahead of me. At least it will be dark. Just this little bit of dampened sunlight was enough to make me feel as if I were in an oven.

 In the trees, I sat as a black mass against wood.

 I was truly alone now: no birds to hear me, no animals to scare, and no ears creeping in; I could relax. “Everything is going perfectly,” I stated to myself. I just had to keep watching for a few more hours, and then his family would be in my grasp—our grasp.

 It will be like a sport, slowly picking away at this family like tender flesh on a bone, peeling them apart before the hunt is over with the name Lumi being no more.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Now it was night.

 The crickets chirped loudly like a choir praising the moon. I could certainly feel the same. The moonlight was as close as I could get to the sun. I remember when the moonlight was cold, but now it's warm; it was like the sun on a clear spring day. I miss those days, all of us do.

 The clouds created a barrier between Earth and the moon, blocking its light.

 Now it was cold. Very cold. Fortunately, I had always worn many layers in my pitch-black suit, so it was truly no problem. Although, I had to keep my hands in my pockets to combat the numbness. It felt as if I were in an icebox.

 A red car started to drive down the path. It looked vintage compared to the cars I've seen around—it was much more box-like. It parked near the house and an owl stepped out. It must have been Christopher’s father.

 He held a briefcase and sported a tie with his dress shirt. He notably looked strikingly similar to Christopher with his feathers patterns. The spots looked much less uniform and free. He was also a bit taller than his wife but not myself as seen when he stepped to the door.

 He gave the front door a knock and leaned to look through the dining room’s window, giving the boy a big smile.

 The boy quickly hopped up and ran to the door, opening it and giving his father a large hug. “Dad!” he exclaimed with a content hoot.

 “Son!” his father teased as he went down and patted his back. Once Christopher unlatched himself, his father stepped in and placed his briefcase near the door, soon closing it behind him.

 Now was my chance! I snuck down and approached the dining room window. In the moon-covered darkness, I was a shadow in the abyss. I peaked my head up slightly just to have the drapes untied, blocking my view. My only look into their home was a tiny crack in the drapes. I had to constantly shift left-to-right just to get a view of all three individuals.

 “Great,” I muttered. At least I am more concealed; I stood up from my crouch to be more comfortable.

 Christopher’s father walked away from the window and went to his wife, wrapping his arms around her gently rubbing his beak into hers. “You trying to let the peanut gallery look in on our dinner?” he asked with a chuckle.

 “Sometimes, I don't even notice,” his mother replied. “The only people who ever come out here are us and Christopher’s friends.”

 “Fair, Fair.” The three sat at the table, filling up their plates as they conversed. His father decided to sit next to his wife with Christopher sitting across from them, so his back was turned to me. “You know, speaking of his friends, didn't you say that they were coming over?” his father asked.

 “Yes, they and Christopher almost got in big trouble too.” She turned to Christopher. “Would you like to tell your father?”

 “It was an accident!” he said. “We were playing tag and we got lost in the woods.” He looked down with a bit of guilt.

 “Come on, Aria. Boys will be boys,” his father said dismissively. He lightly shrugged. “When I was a kid, I used to play in the forest all the time! And even when I was a teenager I would go into the forest with my dad’s booze and…yeah, that's not important.” He laughed.

 “Oliver, he sprained his wing.” She gestured to him. “I’m going to bring him to the doctor’s office tomorrow to get it checked.”

 “Kids get hurt all the time, hun’. He'll be fine.” He turned to Christopher. “Learned your lesson?”

 Christopher lifted his head and gave him a slow nod. “Yes,” he said. “It was really scary, so we definitely won't do it again.”

 “See? He's a good kid.” He turned to his wife with a grin.

 “You boys are so lucky that I love you.” Christopher’s mother sighed with a light chuckle. She turned over and flicked her husband’s beak teasingly.

 Christopher’s father flicked hers right back. “Can't believe you put up with a pain-in-the-ass like us,” he said.

 “Oliver!” She exclaimed. “At the dinner table—in front of Christopher?”

 “What? He probably hears a lot worse things on TV,” his father replied humorously. “Like I said, he's a good kid; he won't repeat after his dad…hopefully.” He laughed.

 “Maybe you are a pain in my…tail feathers.”

 “Glad to be that pain,” he turned to her. “Because you're stuck with me for life!” He began to give her playful punches, gently tapping her shoulder, arm, and face with his knuckles.

 Christopher even began to giggle, seeing his father and mother play-fight with each other.

 Of course, his mother had to chime in by pushing at his face and giving him a few playful punches back. It seemed hard for her not to indulge in his fun. His energy was strangely like a much more mature variant of Christopher’s. Or perhaps even a much less mature variant of it.

 After a quick moment of fun, it slowly stopped as Christopher's mother gradually calmed her husband down.

 It was dreadful to watch. As I watched, I wanted to shatter this window—I wanted to make them stop. I don't know why I even forced myself to watch them.

 It was over, though. Soon, it will be over permanently. I will make sure of it.

 The family continued to chatter over their meal about their day, miscellaneous topics, and anything that came to mind. A main focus of their conversation was Christopher’s day with his friends. Not only had he done a lot outside, seeing the forest and nature itself, but also what he did inside. He and his friends helped his mother with countless things in the home, wanting to get the dinner ready before his father returned. His positive reaction made Christopher feel proud for helping his mother; his work had meaning and it made someone proud. I wish that I could have had that proud father figure that he didn't even think twice about.

 Christopher’s father finished his glass of water, letting out a sigh as he washed his meal down. He placed down the glass. “You really out-did yourself with those mice and beetles, Aria,” he said sweetly, giving his stomach a few pats while slouching in his chair.

 “Please, I just threw it together.” She chuckled as she leaned into his shoulder.

 “Well, you need to start ‘just throwing this together’ every night,” he replied, holding up his empty plate.

 “Yeah,” Christopher added, “it was super delicious!”

 “You two are just too sweet,” his mother said in a flustered manner. She reached over and took both of their plates holding them in a stack. “Christopher, I think it's about your bedtime. Why not you two get yourselves comfortable while I quickly do the dishes?” She turned to Christopher. “I'll tuck you in when I'm finished, dear,” she said.

 “Goodnight, buddy,” his father said. He gave him a pat on the head. “I'm gonna help your mother with the dishes and head straight to bed.” He sighed. “Never grow up, kid. Work sucks,” he added with an extra chuckle.

 “Okay,” Christopher replied. “Goodnight. I love you!” He smiled widely.

 “I love you too, dear,” his mother replied warmly.

 Contrarily, his father teasingly said, “Love ya mean it.”

 Christopher softly giggled before walking off to his room. I could hear the light pitter-patter of talons going up stairs through the window. I just wonder which window it could be.

 “Oh, make sure to sleep on your front or side! You don't want to hurt your wing even more!” his mother added as he went up.

 “Thank you, mom!”

 Once his room door shut Oliver turned to Aria. “He really is a good kid.” He smiled as he wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his head onto her shoulder.

 “Mhm,” Aria replied, leaning back into him, “let’s just hope he doesn't end up like you.” She laughed.

 “Like who? A loving father and husband with a stable job?”

 “Yeah,” she satirically said.

 “Oh, shush.” He gently chuckled.

 They stood there quietly, enjoying each other’s warmth. It was adorable in a way, seeing these lovers enjoy the moment. It's good that they enjoy it while it lasts.

 Aria pushed him back a bit, in which he gently pulled her closer. “You know,” said Oliver, “he's in bed right now…”

 “No,” she softly dismissed.

 “C’mon, just a quickie?”

 “Not tonight.” She pushed him back gently.

 “Fine.” He let go. “I’m still helping with the dishes, though.” He gently rubbed his beak into her forehead.

 Aria returned.the gesture before she started to walk to the kitchen. Oliver followed close behind. “Fine by me,” Aria said.

 I cleared my throat uncomfortably and turned from the crevice in the window. “Thank god she didn't say ‘yes’ while I was watching,” I said.

 I turned around and sat against the house, sighing. I hadn't even realized that the moon was out. I embraced the warmth for just this time. I was thinking of what exactly I would do.

 Honestly, no other family was like this one. They had a bond. They loved each other more than anything, and I could clearly see it behind their own walls. No other families—at least the ones I’ve seen—truly show as much passion and affection as the Lumis.

 It only made the wound deepen and sting worse.

 “Piece of shit,” I muttered to myself, standing up on my talons as I started to walk around the house, looking for Christopher’s bedroom window. “They'll see—all three of them. Maybe his friends too if we choose to branch off.” I looked up the wall, seeing no good thing to climb. I groaned before my attention turned to the telephone pole. I began to climb. “This brat has never felt pain—never the pain I have—and yet he gets all of this?” I crawled on the wire, now reaching the roof of the house. I climbed down a story and started to scoot along the wall, huggining it, and moving towards Christopher’s window inch-by-inch. “I hope he's prepared to lose it all.” I stopped at a window, seeing Christopher lied in his bed comfortably. He lied in his own bed—his own room. “He never had to share his privacy with anyone. He had a room all to himself.” I raised my hand, slowly scratching the glass. It created an obnoxious noise, leaving scratch marks in the glass as I deafened the night with the sound that just made anybody want to rip off their ears. “Guess what I had?”

 Christopher quickly sat up, prompting me to crouch down below the window. All he saw were five large scratches in the glass.

 “I had nothing,” I whispered, almost as if I had been talking to him through the wall. As if I had been berating him with words he couldn't even hear.

 His door opened.

 “Mom?” he said, staring at the scratches. I could hear his heartbeat all the way from here—or maybe it was my own. All I knew is that I could sense the fear in his voice.

 “What is it, my hatchling?” she asked, sitting on the bed and gently caressing his head. She looked out the window with Christopher, seeing my marks. “Oh.” She looked down. “It's just an animal, dear. Don't worry,” she assured him.

 “Are you sure?” he asked.

 “I'm not sure of it, I know it. And even if a monster decides to come eat your handsome butt up, you know that your father will beat it up!” she chuckled gently, getting the same reaction from Christopher. She most likely teased or poked at him.

 “You're safe here, my hatching.”

 If only that had been true.

 Christopher giggled, now being tucked in bed. “Thank you, mom,” he said.

 “Of course, my love.” She stood up and approached the door. Just before she left, she turned back. “I love you, Christopher.”

 “I love you too, mom.”

 The door shut, allowing me to finally stand back up.

 I looked into the room to see Christopher, peacefully sleeping in his bed. He was even smiling with contentment in his bed!

 “Enjoy it while you can,” I whispered.

 My eyes darted around the darkness of his room, looking at the toys, drawings, and furniture. It was all natural things of a young boy his age with nothing out of the ordinary.

 I leaned back slowly, my eyes now focusing on my reflection in the window. I saw the faint silhouette of a man with a beak and his fedora. But on his face were two glowing white dots for his eyes as if they were two drops of white paint on a clear night sky.

 This is what I have become.

 I began to lean back further, and further, and further before I fell. I fell to the ground without a sound, my pitch-black body hitting the cold, soft grass. I was already used to the feeling of falling, so the pain never really happened.