The woods behind Wayne Manor had rules.

Stay hidden. Stay silent. Never get caught.

You broke all three the moment you saw them.

At first, it was only curiosity. From the tallest pine overlooking the manor grounds, you watched shadows move through glowing windows long after midnight. Most people in Gotham whispered about monsters living inside Wayne Manor — rich ghosts, secret parties, cursed bloodlines.

But you saw something different.

You saw training.

The first time you spotted them clearly was during a rainstorm. A boy in black and red flipped across the courtyard while another chased him with a practice staff. Somewhere above them, Batman stood perfectly still on a balcony, cape dragging in the wind like enormous wings.

You froze in the branches.

Not from fear.

Recognition.

Owls noticed other predators.

Your feathers puffed instinctively beneath your oversized hoodie as golden eyes tracked every movement below. Hybrid instincts made it impossible not to stare. Their balance. Their awareness. The way every single member of the family moved like they were listening for danger even in silence.

Especially him.

Nightwing moved differently from Batman — lighter, almost playful. Robin moved like a sharpened knife. Red Hood stomped around like he wanted the entire forest to know he existed. Red Robin noticed details nobody else did.

And then there was Cassandra.

You discovered quickly she was the hardest to watch.

Because sometimes…

She looked directly at you.

Not at the tree. Not at the shadows.

At you.

The first time it happened, you nearly fell out of the branch.

You vanished deeper into the forest after that, heart hammering beneath layers of feathers and nerves. You told yourself you were done spying.

Then two nights later, you came back.

You learned their routines without meaning to.

Batman returned last. Alfred always left the porch light on. Damian fed a stray cat that hated everyone except him. Jason smoked on the roof when he was angry. Dick talked with his hands even when nobody was around.

You wondered what it would feel like to belong somewhere like that.

A family of creatures too strange for the rest of the world.

One winter night changed everything.

Snow buried the forest floor in silence while you perched near the manor wall, half asleep beneath your wings. The cold normally didn’t bother you much, but Gotham winters were brutal even for hybrids.

A twig snapped below.

You looked down.

Robin.

Damian Wayne stood directly under your tree with his hood dusted in snow.

“You are terrible at hiding,” he said flatly.

Your stomach dropped.

Every instinct screamed RUN.

But his expression wasn’t angry. If anything, he looked annoyed that it took this long.

“You’ve been watching us for months,” he continued. “Father assumed you were a threat. Grayson thought you were a cryptid. Todd wanted to shoot the tree.”

A pause.

“Cassandra said you were lonely.”

Your feathers fluffed automatically in embarrassment.

Damian noticed immediately.

“…You do that when nervous,” he observed.

You tightened your wings around yourself.

He sighed dramatically, like you were inconveniencing him.

“Are you coming down or not?”

Slowly, carefully, you descended from the branch. Boots hit the snow without a sound. Damian studied you openly now — the feathered ears hidden beneath your hood, the sharp eyes, the owl-like markings dusting your skin.

“You’re an owl hybrid,” he said.

You nodded once.

“Hm.” He looked almost thoughtful. “That explains why you keep perching in the gargoyles.”

Your face heated instantly.

“You saw that?”

“Everyone saw that.”

Somewhere above, laughter echoed from the manor roof.

Nightwing leaned over the ledge waving enthusiastically.

“Told you they were real!”

You stared in horror as Red Hood appeared beside him holding twenty dollars.

Batman’s voice rumbled from somewhere in the shadows:

“Jason. Pay him.”

Jason groaned.

“You’ve GOTTA be kidding me.”