“What do you want of me?” said I.
“Who?” he said.
“I get that you’re an owl. But you haven’t answered my question.”
“Nor will I. Walk beside me a while.”
I stepped around him, and went on down the empty block.
“I’m beside you,” he said. “If you know it or not.”
I was alone in the street. There were no lights ahead, and none shone from the blocky black slabs of buildings on either side of the pavement, only a dim white bulb depending from the streetlamp at the corner I had just left. Still the road ahead grew brighter, though without any further detail becoming visible.
I raised my hands before my eyes. They had aged visibly since I had last seen them.
The sleeves of my coat had turned to grey feathers.
--Thorn.
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