Owl Fight

A silent night. A quiet night.

Snow fell silently from the clouds, blanketing the ground below.

The moon crept above the sky, three-quarters full. Its light shone upon the house below.

Three stories high, the house had stood there within those grounds for longer than anyone could tell. Its wooden walls only told the story of silence. All light inside of the house was extinguished, its inhabitants having long since crept to sleep.

The center held a grand doorway, two wooden slabs crafted with grace, set upon each other. Besides the edges of the door sat two stone pillars, grayed away with age.

There the house sat undisturbed. As it had done for many nights before.

A figure appeared upon the doorstep. She bore a black robe covering her body, adorned intermittently with black feathers. She stretched out a hand, exposing five fingers ending in talons, sections of feathered armor making their way up her arm. She scratched three parallel lines upon the door, each one glowing red. The door opened and the figure walked inside of the house.

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