Love isn't Shaped

Owl's favorite thing is darkness. The night atmosphere is best suited for them to cuckoo. On the highest branches, under the starlight, they are sometimes misunderstood as night demons.

Their nightly songs filled the silence of Luna's room. It was early morning and the candle was just a thin plate with a burnt wick. The flame trembled.

Luna gathered her experience with her divination skills. She knew a vision would appear when she closed her eyes. The problem was, that she hadn't had any visions since waking up.

She tried sleeping, blinking rapidly, closing them briefly, and then opening her eyes. All to no avail.

Her hands cupped her face. "My mistake, it can't be forced," she muttered and sighed.

She lay down and sighed again. She thought herself a fool for trying something that came naturally.

"Good plans are sometimes not in the right situation."