The Owls' Kiss

Prologue

The first time Fauna saw The Oracle, she was eleven years old. He had swept the Valley into a frenzy with his owl-like appearance and sharp eyes that spoke of hatred. It was the day the snow fell unbidden and relentlessly; the wind had burnt her skin, and the frigidness could have almost been a warning, yet Fauna could still recall that day with a nearly picturesque quality.

A snowflake fell from the sky in a blissful dance toward the ground, joining its brethren in a shimmery blanket of crystal ice. The sun peaked over the mountains and cast a pinkish glow of morning light across the Valley. Fauna breathed deeply; it was moments like these where the Valley was most beautiful. When the trees held their branches firm against the chill of winter, the smell of woodsmoke tangled in her hair and left her breathless. When snow crunched against her boots as she followed the footprints of those before her, the winter wind lapped at her cheeks before they parted and left a cruel shiver behind.

This morning, however, the Valley was filled with apprehension as people gathered before the mountainside. The air was bustling with sounds of anticipation and excitement as the crowd grew larger. The snow stilled the Valley in a picture, and Fauna grew wary of the elders as their voices mingled to form a tension she couldn't place. Their hesitancy unnerved the young girl, and she looked around her haven nestled between the dark rocks of the mountains and committed this moment to memory, one she would eventually forget.

It was then that she saw a flicker of a child before they were guided further along the snow-covered path by an adult that Fauna recognized as her father before her view became obstructed by the elders' ever-tightening circle of protection.

All was quiet as she and the others waited, and Fauna glanced behind her to see if she could catch a glimpse of an older girl. When she didn't, Fauna clasped her hands together and began to wring her fingers until she felt they'd fall off. This habit of nervous energy started some time ago before she remembered it, but it held her firm when her heart raced, and she could hear the pounding inside her ears. When her throat felt scratchy and dry, a rock-sized mass would fall into her belly, leaving her uncomfortable.

Fauna caught glimpses, but the elders kept her and the other children they had wrangled together in a guarded ring so compact her skin became clammy from the heat; her gaze nearly obstructed as the Valley Cheif climbed the large boulder protruding from the foot of the mountain.

The Chief was a tall, stout man who braved the harsh winters of the Valley, and Fauna watched as he gestured the child to come forth to stand beside him. A small silhouette shrouded in billowing fabric came to his side as a sharp pain sliced through Fauna. One of the children had stamped her foot in the congregation, and she pulled her eyes away from the boulder to narrow her gaze at a young boy who sent a wolfish grin in return. She did not see the child beside her father remove the blanket, nor the shocked looks that came after. Fauna did, however, hear the breathy gasp of an older woman before bringing her attention back to the Valley Chief and the child, who looked like nothing she had ever seen.

His skin was the color of moonlight, and as it shimmered under feathers darker than the Shadowbrick Mountains, whispers of unease made the air feel heavy and humid. The plumage was thick as it protruded from his skin and cascaded down to form a cloak of melanistic security. His hair was a perfect collaboration between charcoal and russet brown, and his eyes were so dark that they appeared as opaque jewels that settled deep into his face. The snow fell against him in quickening advances, and Fauna thought he looked like a night sky with an inky starlight scattered until the morning.

He was beautiful.

"A faerie promise has blessed us," The Chief began, his voice filling the empty quietness that had filled the Valley once the shock had taken over. His breath came in the shape of a cloud that extended to the sky, where the wind whipped it up to join the winter air and the snowflakes that had become large and forceful. "From the lands of Attelwell, a youngling flew into the Fawnsire forest and graced our sacred lands, a promise that will forever change our way of life."