The cold night air cut deep into her lungs as Callie raced through the woods, not caring that the branches reached out trying to stop her. But nothing in the world could stop her. Tonight, for the first time in weeks, she did not feel cold iron on her wrist, or the bite of the whip. Tonight, she was free! At least, until a new morning dawned.

              Crickets chirped and small animals scurried out of her way, but a single movement caught her eye. She looked up and saw the silhouette of an owl against the night sky, the stars blinking in and out of existence with each flap of its wings. Her eyes followed the creature, jealousy stirring within her heart. What she would give to have such freedom. To not have to wait for the kindness of a soldier to breathe in fresh air.

              Without understanding why, her feet forced her forward, a small clearing in the woods her destination. As Callie emerged from the woods, fog encircled the entire clearing, cutting her off from the woods. She did not know if the fog only existed as a representation of a barrier, or acted as one. Curiosity, not fear, kept her in the clearing. No sounds dared to enter the clearing. She looked up, hoping to discover the reason for her journey to this place. And she was not disappointed.

              Silently, the owl floated down, landing on a stump in the middle of the clearing. Unable to move, she stared at the owl, taken aback by its beauty. White feathers stood out against the darkness that surrounded them. But it was its blue eyes that pierced her heart, weighing her soul. Fear finally crashed over her. What if she was found wanting? What if she had been lured to her death by this magnificent creature?

              “I only deliver death to my prey,” it said, as it looked at her.

              Callie stiffened at the words, her eyes seeming to grow two sizes. Did the owl truly speak? Or was her imagination driving reality?

              “I am speaking,” the owl said, answering her questions.

              She opened her mouth to speak but her words stuck in her dry mouth. For the first time, she noticed that her breath did not form a cloud as it left the warmth of her body.

              “There is no reason to fear me,” the owl continued. “I do not judge the soul, only illuminate what is already present.”

              Panic rose up in her like a flash flood. What was present in her soul? Anger? Hate? Fear? Disappointment?

              “Those are all present, but you are forgetting one.”

              “What?” she asked, her voice overcoming her fear.

              “Step closer.”

              Desiring to know what she had missed, she approached the center of the clearing, kneeling in front of the owl.

              “Did you not also forget love?” it asked.

              “I did not possess it any longer,” she confessed. “The world has drained it from my soul, taking hope with it.”

              The owl nodded its head slowly, blinking its eyes as it did.

              “The world is cruel, just ask the field mice,” it said, smiling. “But you are not being honest with yourself. Love is what has brought you here, and if you dig deep enough, you will see that love will drive your future decisions.”

              How could love have brought her to this clearing? Is it not love that had placed her in shackles? Is it not love that had abandoned her? No, it was her feet and curiosity that brought her here.

              “I am disappointed, young one,” the owl said. “You are not thinking clearly. How did you free yourself from the cell that held you?”

              “I did not,” she answered. “It was…” Realization struck her as the image of the soldier filled her mind, his green eyes and gentle smile always brightened her small cell. “He cannot love me.”

              “Why not?” the owl pressed.

              “I am a criminal.”

              “But not of your own making, is that not so?” She nodded. “Did not an unjust king place you in that cell for helping another?” She nodded again. “I do not believe an unjust king would allow you a night of freedom.”

              “No, he would not,” she answered, understanding what she did not before. How did his heart grow fond of her? She did not possess any great beauty. Nor did her intelligence rival that of any sage. She had nothing to offer him for his kindness.

              “Do not think that every person demands repayment for their acts of kindness,” the owl said.

              “Can you hear my thoughts?” she asked.

              “Of course. I would not be very good at illuminating one’s soul if I could not.”

              Laughter leapt from her lips as Callie understood the truth of its words. She took a deep breath, preparing herself to delve into the reason for this meeting.

              “Have I done something wrong?” she asked, thinking back on all of her past decisions, but none seemed serious enough to warrant such an intervention.

              “It is not what you have done wrong, but what you are doing wrong,” it said, lifting one of its feet and scratching a spot on the back of its head with one of its talons. “You are forgetting the good that envelopes the world.”

              “The good?” She held up her wrists, displaying the scars from the shackles. “Can the world contain any good when the innocent carry scars like these?!”

              “It can, but it is easily drowned out by the cruelty of others. You only need to listen for the still, small voice, for it is the only thing which anchors hope to the soul.”

              Hope. She had lost the last ember of it when she knew none could intervene on her behalf. How was she to know the woman she had treated had attempted to poison the entire Royal Family? The woman appeared at her door with a blood-soaked tunic. If only she had turned the woman away, she would be free.

              “You would not have turned away the woman, even if you thought you knew what crime she had committed.”

              Callie felt her head tilt to the side at the owl’s words. The owl mimicked her movement.

              “Did she not attempt to assassinate the entire Royal Family?”

              The owl only blinked in reply.

              “I need to know.”

              “Why? We have already established that it would not have changed your actions.”

              “True, but how could I have not seen evil at my door?”

              The owl tilted its head from side-to-side, blinking a couple times.

              “Evil is not a scary monster that announces it arrival. It seeps in through the cracks, hiding in plain daylight as an agent of innocence.”

              “Then how can anyone recognize it?”

              “Despite its best attempt to appear as such, it cannot complete the act. It can look as it wishes, but it cannot alter the way it feels wrong.”  

              “Why are you telling me this now?”

              “It is a skill you need to learn if you wish to stay afloat in the cruelty that drowns this world.”

              She took the words and placed them deep within her heart to ensure that she would not forget them.

              “Do you wish to return to the cruelty?” the owl asked bluntly.

              The question caught her off guard. It was not necessarily the content of the question, but simply asking it. Who would want to return to a cruel world? Why even ask the question? Unless the answer was not as simple as it appeared. If she returned, a cold, dark cell awaited her. But if she did not, the soldier who had allowed her this tiny bit of freedom would lose his life. Could she live knowing that she had cost an innocent man his life? She knew the answer before she fully asked herself the question.

              “Yes.”

              As she spoke the word, the fog that had surrounded them opened in two places. She glanced between the two, not certain which one would lead her back to her cell.

              “One path will lead you home without incident,” the owl said. “While the other will still lead you home, but evil will cross your path.”

              “How am I to choose?” she asked the owl, desperate to avoid any evil.

              “Did I not already tell you?” the owl countered, tilting its head to one side.

              Callie rummaged through her memories of their conversation, filtering out any words that did not fit. It cannot alter the way it feels wrong. She rose to her feet and cross the clearing to the first opening. Standing in front of it, she closed her eyes and allowed the air from the opening to wash over her. Nothing. All seemed innocent. To learn the difference, she crossed to the other opening and stood in front of it, closing her eyes as she did. The air that washed over her felt the same as the other. Disappointment swept over her, causing her shoulders to sag. As she turned to face the owl, she felt the slightest shift in the air. The hairs on the nape of her neck stood up, sending the smallest shiver down her spine. She returned her focus toward the opening and as she did, a new world opened to her. A tiny glimpse of the evil that lurked in the world, then it was gone. How had she missed it?

              “Why am I…” she stopped short as she turned to face the owl. The stump in the middle of the clearing was empty.

              Pink started to color the horizon, warning her that she needed to return to her cell. With feet like a deer’s, she ran through the first opening in the fog and straight to the edge of the forest. She paused for a moment and spotted the soldier standing outside the small hidden door used by the soldiers to drag out any prisoner who died. A smile crossed her face. He was as dependable as the rising sun. As she started to emerge from the trees, something told her to stop. And to watch.

              The smile faded from her lips as she caught a small movement behind the soldier and the flash of a blade. The individual behind the soldier drove the blade into the soldier’s side, yanking it out. Blood dripped from the blade as the soldier dropped to his knees. With the soldier out of the way, Callie saw the culprit for the first time. The King. Why would he dirty his own hands to kill a soldier? The answer came with the next words spoken by the King.

              “I will not allow any son of mine to ruin all I had planned!”

              She gasped. He was a Prince! The King kicked his son to the side and closed the door. A choice now lay before her, one that would shape her future. Should she risk everything to help the young Prince? Or run and save her own life?

As she thought of all the young prince has risked for her, she knew she must do the same for him. Darting from the tree line, she raced to his side and found him still breathing.

              “Can you rise to your feet?” she asked, hoping he was still conscious.

              “Yes,” he replied weakly, grabbing his side as he sat up. “You came back.”

              “Why wouldn’t I?” she answered, a smile on her face.

              The young prince smiled back. She slipped his arm around her shoulders and the pair stood up together. With each step, she found what she had thought she had lost so many years ago.

Love.