Hey Mrs. Owl, am I really the only one who looks like me? She said.
"You could be!"
You think so? Cause I just saw someone who did. She said.
"Where!?"
I don't know, she was really really high up but her head doesn't spin around like yours or have big teeth like Ms. Rabbit or Wolf. She doesn't have gears like the Piper and she doesn't cry like Mr. Crow. No big ears or fur. She said.
"Aren't those just things she isn't?"
Well what else can I go off of? She said.
"Things about you?"
Don't try to psychoanalyze me. She said.The next morning she packed her bags, her books, her lunch and dinner, strapped her boots, and fitted her cap. She walked out and took in the eternally grey sky.
Mrs. Owl always said the snow once came from up there. If she came up there did she come up there too? She thought to herself. As she walked out of her tree house, a scratchy voice appeared behind her.
"Oh but you mustn't go yet! The forest needs you." The scarecrow cried, covered in vines and tied to a tree.
I'm sorry Crow. She said. But I need to know if that person was another one of me. She said.
"And what if they aren't? Will you come back?"
I will. She said.
"They're not another one of you."
Uh huh. She said.
Despite the wails she kept on going.Leaving behind Crow was easy, She trekked through the forest, away from her home, and onto its edge. The trees were fewer and the Once upon a time, there was a forest of people who never saw the grass grow or the sky anything other than shades of snow-laden gray. The frozen ground never changed any more than their frozen glass eyes, their winding bodies never ticked, and their beaks and mouths and hearts never bate or beat.
"God please free us!" They cried.
"I miss our festivals where I could sing all day." Mrs. Owl lamented.
"I miss our lights which glittered in the snow." Crow recalled.
"I miss our running rivers where we'd dream away hand in hand." The Otters bemoaned.
With eyes too frozen to weep, they wondered if anyone could hear their mouthless pleas. Until, one day, a voice boomed across the land.The voice shook the trees with its force, cold snow sliding from the thousands of branches.
"My children," The wizend voice replied. "I have heard your sorrow but alas, I can do little. The cold is our home now. You know this."
"It is too cold! Much too cold! We yearn to move, please we miss the warmth!" The people begged.
And for a moment, the forest went quiet again. Eventually, the voice returned, softer now. "I ran out of them you know. There's only one left. If you were to lose this one, I do not know what we will do."
"It's fine!"
"It's fine!"
"It's fine!"
"Will you swear to not lose this one?"
"We swear it!"
"We swear it!"
"We swear it on every cog in our bodies!"
And in that moment, a figure appeared before their bodies. A figure of flesh and blood. She