Ballyraven
cryptid wildlife
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Day Hoot
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The day was still and a cloudy gray; large, fluffy snowflakes fell gently to the ground, painting the land in a shimmery white. Within the forest, only the sounds of branches creaking under their gathering weight and Lonnie’s boots crunching in the snow could be heard.
Pleased with the day’s hunt, Lonnie whistled on his way home, enjoying the serenity around him. He heard the snap of a branch and looked upwards; there sat a strange, mostly black bird. It turned to face him, scrutinizing from above with eerie, white eyes; it sang a familiar song, one that went, “who cooks for you? Who cooks for you all? ” The sound was off, sending shivers down his spine; it was then that Lonnie realized what the creature was: a death omen.
Though he did not think of himself as a superstitious person, Lonnie could not help feeling dread creep over him. He remembered stories his grandparents had told him—that if one heard a Day Hoot, they’d die within the week by beast,…
Organisms
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