Little animals frolicked through the meadows. Dozens of bunnies were hopping around the seven solitary trees in the distance. Foxes, actual ones, played near the large tree in the center. Deer of all sizes came and went, walking slowly through the meadow from one end of the forest to the other. Some ate leisurely while some galloped as if on a journey.

As usual, the Owl’s Nest was full of life.

An oddity, concerning how dangerous the forest which surrounded it, were.

Yet at the same time not. After all, even a basic animal could learn where to go and where not to. As long as it listened to its basic instincts.

What kept the humans at bay, keeping them from entering this deep into the forest, was the same thing that kept the animals here sheltered.

Even though both the animals and the humans would suffer that creature’s wrath all the same.

It cared not who or what you were. It would kill you all the same.

“Protector.”

I turned to acknowledge Lilly. Lomi wasn’t with her. This meant she was either sleeping, or playing with the dog again. She seemed weary of Windle, so I doubted she was with him. Maybe the way the thin man’s head turned a little too unnaturally bothered her.

The tall woman smiled as she approached, and for a tiny moment she looked for all the world happy to see me.

That moment didn’t last long, as her smile turned into a small frown upon getting closer.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Lomi tells me you left a predator at the Sleepy Artist,” Lilly said.

I shifted a little, but not because I was being accused. Not because of her tone, or upset expression.

“A large forest cat. Yes. Her name was Renn,” I said.

Lilly’s expression didn’t darken, but it didn’t get softer either. Her eyes lingered on me for a moment, and then glanced around. At the massive tree they called home. At the meadows surrounding us. At the thick, dark forest, surrounding the meadows.

“I’ll not ask if it was wise… but…” Lilly stopped talking for a moment, and I wondered what she really wanted to ask.

“Out with it, or you’ll never know the answer,” I said to her.

Lilly went still for a moment… then a part of her shirt shuffled. I heard the remnants of her wings as they fluttered beneath her shirt. Annoyed. “Predators are becoming rare. Rare enough that any met could be the last,” she said.

“So it feels like,” I agreed.

“Then… why leave her there?” she asked.

I nodded, understanding her frustration.

Here I had expected her to be upset over risking the Sleepy Artist.

“She’s not a warrior, Lilly. She is stronger than most, I noticed a lot of strength in that small body… but she’s no warrior. Not a knight,” I said gently.

At least, she wasn’t one yet.

Lilly’s eyes narrowed, and her brow furrowed. For a brief moment an injured owl stood before me, not a woman.

“Yet…” she whispered and grabbed her arm with her other hand. Squeezing it tightly, as if scared.

Scared. Yet this owl was not capable of being scared.

She was a warrior. Even if wounded, and no longer able to fly.

“In time maybe. For now, she needs to find her place. She’s older, not as old as we, but older all the same. I don’t know her whole story, but I can tell you she is unaccustomed to our kind. She knows more about humans than she does us. And even then, she knows little. Give her time to… settle. To nest. To find something worth protecting,” I said to Lilly.

The owl sighed, as if upset that I had already long understood what needed to be done.

“I’ve done this many times before, Lilly,” I said to her.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Yes. You have. Yet that is the issue. You bring us to those we fall in love with. And lose any opportunity to enlist us as soldiers,” she said.

I frowned. “I’ve always seen you as a warrior, Lilly,” I said to her.

She blinked, her pupils going wide as she looked into my eyes. As if in doubt of what she had heard.

I nodded, unafraid to be so honest.

Lilly smiled softly, and nodded back. “I see. Still… all the same. I do wish you’d enlist those who were capable, before it was too late,” she said.

“If our kind could be saved by just having a few more soldiers, Lilly… we’d all be fine. The war would be over already,” I said.

“I find that hard to believe Vim,” she said briskly.

“Yet it’s the truth all the same. Even if there were ten of me, our lives would be no different,” I said to her.

“What if there were a hundred? A thousand?”

I took a breath, and realized suddenly why Lilly was so focused on expanding her household.

Was this why she was so… prolific?

“Sorry,” she whispered, and looked away. As if ashamed she had just questioned me.

“Don’t be. But Lilly, do remember… Do you remember the battle?” I asked her.

Her back went stiff, and her shirt became tight again. This time tight enough to show her belly.

It was a little rounder than it should be.

“You remember that morning?” I asked her.

“I do.” Her nubs of wings flapped.

“Did it change anything?” I asked her.

Lilly blinked, and with her blink her eyes became watery.

Silence grew between us, and I knew it was because I had just taken her heart and soul and stepped on it.

It was very likely I was the first, and would be the only, person to ever ask if losing her wings had changed anything. Anything of value.

“Very little,” she whispered finally, after a long moment.

“Yet it was momentous, wasn’t it?” I asked her.

Lilly blinked a tear out of her eye, and then frowned. She spent a few moments pondering my words, but then slowly nodded. “Yes. It was,” she said.

“I’ve forgotten more moments like that than I can count,” I said to her.

The owl hesitated, and stepped forward. As if to argue with me. As if to contradict me.

I continued before she could, “Thousands of those moments are mere memories for me,” I furthered.

Lilly’s eyes narrowed as I pointed at the tree nearby. The massive one, which she and her family called home.

“That there is precious. It is worth protecting. It is worth the price of sacrifice that it demands,” I said to her.

“Yet it will be cut and burned, if we don’t do something,” she argued.

I nodded. “I agree. But, Lilly… it will happen anyway. Eventually.”

“All the more reason! If it’s bound to happen, by fate and design, than we should struggle all the more! Otherwise what would be the point and…!” she went quiet, but not because I stood there quietly.

Not because I was looking at her with pity.

“You could amass an army, Lilly. But all you would do is add a few moments,” I whispered.

She shook her head. “Yet you will march with me, the moment I asked you to.”

“Never said I wouldn’t,” I countered.

She smiled as she sighed. She nodded weakly, as if tired all of a sudden.

“Your children. I hear some have picked up the sword, while others have found love,” I said.

Lilly wasn’t bothered by my change of topics, but nodded softly all the same.

“That’s how you win, Lilly,” I said to her.

“Is it, Vim?” she asked.

“Only those like them are still around, Lilly,” I said.

Lilly twitched, and I knew it was because she herself had thought something similar. Even if she didn’t want to admit it.

“Let the cat find her place. Let your children. Let them all find a home, a place to treasure. We cannot amass armies; we cannot field warriors… so we must simply struggle. Striving to outlast that which threatens us,” I said to her.

“Until we’re nothing more than the very thing we fight,” Lilly whispered.

“Possibly. That can be one of the many outcomes. I hope you didn’t fault your daughter for falling for a human,” I said.

Lilly smiled, quickly shaking her head. “No. I’m not so cruel as that,” she said.

Some birds landed nearby. Colorful, and a little bigger than usual. Some kind of forest bird, with their pretty colors. They began chirping and pecking at the thick grass.

I knew if Lomi had been here, she would have run into their little group. Chasing them off with a laugh.

Lilly stood with me, quietly watching the birds for a moment.

A moment turned into many minutes.

Then finally, the birds took to the sky. Flying off towards the high branches of the mighty tree.

Lilly’s breathing got a little stronger at the sight, and I heard her wings again.

She turned to leave, walking back towards the wooden house. Seemed our little conversation was over.

“Do you regret it, Lilly?” I asked her.

She paused for a moment, but didn’t look back at me. Instead she looked back upward, to the sky.

“I do miss the sky. But no. I’d do it again.”

Smiling at her as she returned to the house, I nodded my head in a small bow to her.

Warrior indeed.