The moon has reached its peak, and as such the wildlife makes itself known to those who are no longer there. Many sleep, but some hunt for what may be their last meal. The animals of the night either live within the woods or the cities that never seem to lose their glow, and as long as they are fed they will be satisfied.

As the mice skitter across the open floors, unaware that a beast of sharp claws, pitch black eyes, and a ghastly face is about to swoop down and feast on their prey, they search for safety. A majority of the mice make it to this haven, however, one does not. That single mouse is swallowed whole, and the beast flies away, almost as if it was merely passing by, almost as if it did not just take another creature's life.

This very same beast represents death, rebirth, and transformation for those who had once thrived off this land, and as such it embodies these very same beliefs when simply going about its nightly routine. 

Yet, only some know this creature to be a barn owl.