CHAPTER NINE: {THE ENCOUNTER}
Crow spent the rest of the day talking to every creature she met in this forest, trying to reassure herself that she wasn’t at all what the stag had called her—unable to see the strange beauty of the world, or in herself. She admired the strange beauty of a slug as it left an iridescent trail across the forest floor; she had a long conversation with a skunk about its bewitching odor; she traded jokes with some young foxes who had an odd sense of humor; and she was sure to admire everything she could about everyone she met. No strange beauty was going to make it past her! She spoke with a family of finches whose yellow feathers were brighter than any she’d ever seen. “What cheerful, bright feathers you have!” she proclaimed and they all bobbed their heads and replied, “What shiny black feathers you have!” After these courtesies they each went their separate ways, secretly believing their own feathers were the finest.
By the time the sun was setting, she felt far more confident—defiantly proud, even. She was sure all the creatures she’d talked to today would describe her as broad-minded and friendly. Not at all someone who was missing out on something important. Not at all someone to feel sorry for. Someone to admire, even. Wasn’t she being very brave? Out on her own in an unfamiliar forest—a crow on a solo adventure—but, just as she was congratulating herself on her courage, a shadow fell between her and the sinking sun. Something had flown above her without making any sound at all. She instinctively shivered, and when she looked up saw huge, broad wings and a startling round face looking back at her. It was the Owl.
Owl landed just close enough to Crow that they could hear each other speak.
“Hello, Crow. You are far from home.”
Crow had never met an actual Owl, much less spoken with one. Her voice felt small and shaky as she said, “I… I am. I’ve come to… I’ve come to look for you!” Just as she said this, Crow remembered her spy mission. Although she’d never said it to herself or anyone else, she realized this whole time she’d been looking for Owl—not to spy, not to fight, but to see if they could be something other than enemies.
“You have come looking for me?” Owl kept her wings spread wide as though she may fly off at any moment. It was a beautiful and terrifying sight.
“Yes! My family—they want to wage war on you and I don’t want them to, so I went looking for you as a way of stalling them. They don’t understand the animal world like I do—they aren’t able to see the strange beauty that’s everywhere around them—or in themselves.” Crow was feeling a little removed from herself, more aware of hearing herself talk than she was of talking. “My family thinks the Owls are to blame for everything—that you can’t be trusted—but I know that we need each other!”
“You do?” Owl seemed genuinely curious and folded those great wings. “Tell me what you know… how do I need you, or you need me?”
Crow thought for a moment. She hadn’t worked that part out yet, but didn’t want to appear foolish in front of Owl—who was so beautiful. Owl’s feathers were so intricately patterned and colored, and Owl’s eyes were so deep and dark. It made sense that she would need Owl, somehow, what else could explain this fascination? Finally, she opened her beak and hoped that what tumbled out would sound wise. “Well, Crows are very loud and Owls are very quiet. Crows need a lot of family around them all the time but Owls are always alone. Crows are very curious and have large vocabularies, but Owls don’t use many words at all and live in the dark, so there’s less to be curious about—Yes, that’s it, we’re complete opposites! We need each other to be completely different from each other because that’s how we’re able to know ourselves.” She puffed herself out, feeling glad to have figured it out without even trying too hard. She hadn’t been able to meet Owl’s eyes while she was orating, but now she peeked to see if Owl looked impressed.
Owl was perfectly still, her face unreadable in the gathering dusk. When she did speak, she only said, “Do you know yourself?”
Crow wavered. Owl’s question brought back the painful conversation with the stag, and all the confidence from the day slipped away, just as night was starting to settle in around them. “Of course I do.” Crow said with very little certainty, and a good bit of annoyance.
“I see… and yet—what I hear is not what I see.”
“What do you mean?” Crow asked, as feelings of frustration grew in her. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”
“Young Crow, you are not who you think you are. And I am not who you think I am. Who is a very powerful question indeed. Who, who, who are we?” And with that, the Owl flew silently into the dark.
Crow stamped her feet, flew up the nearest tree. Angry and confused, she tucked her head under her wing for the night.