A crackling sound of crunching leaves echoed through the dark forest. "Who?" a loud squawk questioned.

Unexpectedly, someone replied. "Who?" Their tone was melancholy. "Who?"

A girl strode through the forest, silent apart from her soft questioning, responding to the owls that were scattered throughout the forest. "Who?" The voice was hers. "Who?" She sounded desperate, and looked horribly despondent. She looked up at the sky and frowned, but it didn't last. "Who?" she asked the moon, bright and round and hanging right in the middle of the sky, larger than normal.

The moon glowed brighter; but if it sent her a message, she didn't get it.

She huffed and crossed her arms. "Who?" she demanded, impatient and angry. "WHO?"

The moon didn't answer and she turned her back on it, returning to her call-and-response with the owls, returning to asking them her eternal question. "Who," she whispered. "Who." The word was practically a sob as she sank to her knees in the dry, dead leaves and covered her face with her hands. Owls flocked to her, great screeching cries echoing through the woods as they rose from the trees as one and swooped down at the spot where she was, resting on her shaking body and shielding her from harm with their feathery wings. She screamed, her voice breaking but never-ending, terrifying the humans. "WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO?"

The owls joined in and people cowered in their homes in terror, frightened of the girl, of the legend of a girl who walked the world talking to great majestic birds and asking her perpetual question. "Who?"