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36 lines
2.2 KiB
Plaintext
36 lines
2.2 KiB
Plaintext
We shall rise again.
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The withered tree has sprouted anew, for a time of still greater trial is coming.
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So the owls warned the falcons once upon a time.
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But the falcons, who overlooked the land ever, had it in their hearts to rule the skies.
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And truthfully, what could challenge them for that dominance?
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So they did not heed the warning of the owls, and even scorned them, taking them for cowards.
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"These birds that only dare hunt at night are helpless as hatchlings," they thought.
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Later, rime that froze the mountain like a pinning nail shattered the tree that shadowed the mountain kingdom.
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And after that, a darkness that drowned the land like a tide snapped the branches upon which the birds of prey perched.
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In that raging whirl of malice, falcons and sparrows alike fell to the earth.
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Thus did the birds of the land of wind come to realize this:
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Even the skies of freedom might be turned bone-white by ice, or painted black by smog.
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The midday sun had been all but covered, to say nothing of the moon or the stars.
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Fledgling birds curled up in their nests, waiting for the silent, tragic end to come.
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But in the absence of light, the night-roaming owls thus gained dominion...
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Until a long, long time later...
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The weak young falcons would be kept alive, growing up on prey brought from places unknown.
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The sky, too, would eventually clear up. And though the mountain would remain covered in snow and ice, life would grow again, faint and fragile, on the ground.
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The nestlings would never know who it was who saved them.
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The dragon, lovely as jewels, would also be forgotten, as would the eyes of the owls that had once shone brightly in the darkness.
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Today, the branches that birds perched upon in antiquity have grown out once more, though they are stained an ominous crimson...
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And though this is but a tangential matter, a crimson-red falcon that had perhaps left its flock to hunt and protect after dark would also take up the night owls' name.
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In the silence of the night, they call out, passing the secret along:
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We shall rise again.
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The withered tree has sprouted anew, for a time of still greater trial is coming.
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And so, I gift unto you this pair of wings. Let us witness that coming time together. |