Hunter Owl House Novels & Stories

The safehouse windows stayed open day and night now, letting in crickets, distant thunder, the occasional owl call that sounded almost like a question. Marcus had finished the guest cabin in April. By May he’d added a small porch—wide enough for a single chair and a side table. He sat there most evenings, carving by lantern light. The birds on his shelf had multiplied: five now, each one more precise, wings no longer crooked. The latest—a hawk mid-soar—perched on the windowsill facing the main house, as though watching over the path between the two buildings. Aiden walked that path every evening after dinner. Sometimes Silas joined him. Sometimes he went alone. Tonight he went alone.

Shrubs and vines had popped up from between the burnt slats of the first floor. Multiple little creatures had made a home of the place, too, little birds’ nests dotted along the few rafters that were still standing. Somewhere, I could hear the soft chittering of a family of possums, and an owl was sitting stoically in a tree branch nearby, although it took flight without so much as a rustle of wings when it saw us coming. It was… “Beautiful,” I breathed, looking at the clearing in awe. My mother grabbed my hand and gripped it tightly, and when I glanced over at her, tears were in her eyes—but she was smiling.

Bria suggested, and I grinned slightly. As we pulled up to the front of the house, I spied a white and black speckled large owl perched on the roof looking down at us, then immediately got a chill. “Is that Aspen?” I questioned Bria and she hummed before saying possibly. Narrowing my eyes at the feathered creature, I watched it tilt its head, spread its wings, and fly off toward the forest. “Is he able to transform into anything?” “Yes, he has that gift from his ancestors,” Bria sighed and I huffed in amazement.

… Hugo I drove back to my place, the soft static on the radio and the gravel crunching beneath the tires as I pulled into the long driveway. The orange glow from the lampposts cast a warm light, causing a few of my guardsmen to nod in acknowledgment. My mansion stood at the heart of the grounds, surrounded by winding paths that connected to the ten-pack houses. The most powerful wolves resided in house number one, and the thick forest made it hard to spot the homes, which were strategically spread out.

But I couldn’t shake it. So at dawn—before chores, before breakfast—I tiptoed out of our den and snuck back into the woods. This time, I left a rock trail. And a flower behind my ear. And a note that said, “Not lost. Don’t panic. Be back soon. P.S. Don’t yell.” (I knew Joha would yell.) I reached the owl tree just as sunlight painted the forest floor gold. The hollow where we placed Tumbles was quiet. He was probably out stretching his wings or doing owl things. (I imagined him with glasses reading a spellbook. He felt like the glasses-and-spellbook type.)

inquired a sarcastic deep voice. "Yes!" Arabelle smiled and stretched out her hands. "Good, then leave my room now! " The owl said loudly, causing Arabelle to stop what she was doing and look around the room until their gazes met. The ear tufts on this bird are distinctive, and the upper parts are mottled with darker blackish coloring and tawny. Barred wings and tail. The underparts are a mottled buff with darker streaks. The facial disc is barely visible, but the orange eyes stand out; it stood about 8ft tall. "Do you know that if you look at me like that, I can sentence you to death?" grumbled the creature. Arabelle immediately took her gaze away from the bird.

He spotted the cabin below and swooped down toward it. Almost immediately he realized something had to be wrong. No smoke came from the chimney, and on a night like this the three hunters would need warmth. The owl banked sharply and glided in, talons extended. He landed as a man, on his feet, his senses alert to any impending dangers, flaring out to scan the area. He caught no signs of life, but he smelled death. The stench was in his nostrils, along with the pungent scent of terror. Someone had died violently, and had known it was coming.

This sent a chill up the spine of the servant girl. Neither the dark glint skirting across the Queen's eyes nor the quivering - even as brief and momentary as it was - escaped from the wise and sharp eyesight of King Easton. The eyesight and accuracy of it... of a Eurasian Eagle-owl Harpy, was on par with that of a Raven or an Eagle. The only difference was that owls could see in the dark and eagles and ravens could not distinguish things at night as accurately. Then there is also the sharp and cutting intelligence of the owls.

As hot lead thumped holes into the hard plastic, the container began to sink. When the man turned and started back toward the barn, I dropped behind the dried firewood and watched as he lumbered back toward the lighted door breathing heavily with gun in hand. I gently eased my foot to the left and had risen slightly to get a better look at his face when a terrified creature pierced the silence with a heart-stopping screech just above my head. Dropping to the ground behind the woodpile with my heart hammering in my chest, I looked up into the face of a long-eared owl bobbing on a low-hanging branch above me, its enormous yellow eyes blinking independently. In its talons it clutched a young ra

]] {{ no thank you }} [[ correct answer dear, now let us be off ]] we all turn and head out of the room, once again locking it. As we make our way back down there corridor Ida stopped and peered into my mother's room [[ I see you're still working hard at it there hmm ]] she chuckled as I in turn peered in to see who she was speaking to then looked at her when I saw no one in the room, she chuckled once more [[ come along deary, let's leave them to it ]] I turn and follow them out and down the hall way * screeeeeeeeech * one of her Snowy Owls swoop down clutching what seems to be a Cardinal bird in its claws, she extended her hand and it landed on her hand, giving her the bird.