I woke up in the cold. Not human cold, no. A cold that passed right through my feathers...

  Feathers! Two sharp talons, a hard beak, brown feathers. And a branch beneath me.

  I had become an owl.

  Thalen: "Why does my head move like a living screwdriver?!"

  The forest seemed alive. Every trunk vibrated, every leaf whispered secrets. The air smelled of moss, sap, and fresh dampness.

  I was tiny. But it was beautiful. Peaceful.

  Instinct: — Finally decided to wake up, huh?

  Thalen: — Huh? Who's talking?!

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Instinct: — Calm down. It's just your instinct.

  Thalen: — My... instinct? Since when does it talk?

  Instinct: — Since you got talons, apparently.

  I tried to respond, but my claw slipped.

  I almost fell, catching myself with a flail of wings so clumsy I looked like a towel having an existential crisis.

  Instinct: — Congratulations, you just invented panic flight.

  Thalen: — ...Thanks, I guess.

  I took a deep breath. The sounds around me were sharp. Every rustle, every movement. The entire forest seemed to open its secrets to me.

  Instinct: — Not bad, huh? Feeling the difference?

  Thalen: — Yes... it's thrilling. Like everything is vibrating.

  Instinct: — Exactly. That's your instinct. Let it guide you. It'll teach you to fly better than any manual ever could.