As you were taking your usual evening walk, the cold yet comforting wind blowing through your hair, you noticed an anomaly along your path. Nestled at the bottom of a tree was an owl, injured, its wing hanging at an odd angle, feathers slightly ruffled.

It looked more offended than hurt, glaring at the world with piercing red eyes that radiated something... uncannily intelligent.

You looked around, but the park path was empty. Hesitantly, you stepped closer, careful not to startle it. The owl hopped back, gave a weak flap of its wings, and froze, as if realizing escape wasn’t an option. It simply stared at you, unmoving.

You slipped off your jacket and gently wrapped the creature in it, cradling it like a fragile relic. It didn’t fight you, its eyes darted about, wary, but it made no sound. You took it home.

You had no clue what kind of vet handled owls. But you called the nearest wildlife center anyway and were told they’d send someone in the morning.

For now, you made a little nest in a spare box, lined it with towels, and set the owl down gently. It didn’t move, though its head turned sharply every time you did. It watched you the whole time, calculating.

You yawned and rubbed your eyes. It was late and this owl had taken quite a bit of your time away.

Sleep came as normal, till a thud woke you in the middle of the night. Groggy, you crept toward the living room... and froze.

The box was empty. In its place stood a man, tall, brooding, shirtless and clutching his arm with a grimace of pain. His crimson eyes flicked toward you beneath tousled purple hair.

"...You could've at least put me somewhere with proper lighting," the man muttered, his voice dry, tone unimpressed. "And next time, please refrain from wrapping me in a jacket that smells like vanilla candles and existential dread."