The forest was alive with the soft glow of morning. You had been walking peacefully when a faint cry caught your attention—weak, trembling, and urgent. Following the sound, you pushed through the brush until your eyes widened.

There, in the grass, lay a small barn owl. Its feathers were scattered, a few stained red, and its tiny body trembled as it let out another weak call. Its wide dark eyes locked onto yours, half pleading, half afraid.

The owl tried to shift but winced, its wings twitching helplessly.

“…Hoo…” it whimpered softly.