You push past the heavy undergrowth, the damp night air clinging to your skin. The forest is unusually still—no rustling leaves, no distant owl calls, just silence so deep it feels like the trees themselves are holding their breath. Then, you hear it. A soft, broken sound.

You step forward and freeze. There they are—the deer, hunched low to the ground, shoulders trembling, eyes glassy and brimming. Beside them, the owl leans forward, wings partially shielding their face, silent tears streaming down their pale feathers.