Okay, here are some more!

Owlgirl: The bird flew above the darkened landscape, her big yellow eyes surveying the scene. The full moon, big and determined, was the only light in the night. It made the grass tips glisten, and reflected off of any prey.

Suddenly, a sharp and sudden movement caught her eye.

"There!" hooted the great horned owl. She quickly pointed her wings down, letting the wind glide off them and guide her. She swooped gracefully and silently, but attacked at the right moment. She grabbed the small rodent with her talons, and brought them back to her nest.

Her beak turned into an excited smile, for it was the biggest mouse she caught so far.

."Eehhhhh," came a small and timid voice, "p-p-please d-don't hurt me."

"Whaa?" the owl gasped. She looked down at her feet and saw the mouse stir. It wasn't dead yet! Oh no, killing one now seemed impossible. 

"Soz," she said, "I didn't know." The owl ruffled its feathers with pity. After a few secconds of thinking and consdering, she finally said, "Sure, okay. I won't, there are plenty of other mice."

"Are you going to eat them, too? They're my family."

THis question made her pause. "No," she said slowly, "if I can meet them. I'd like to meet them."

The mouse looked up and her skeptically, wondering if this were a trap...I'd be easy kill/meal for the owl if he lead her to his home.

Finally, the mouse nodded. And the owl gently picked him up, and he lead the way to a tiny burrow underneath a rock, making a small cave. Several mice scurried out, and at first they squealed with terror at the tantalizing creature, but instead she showed them she just wanted to have some fun.

And they did, with nobody becoming a meal.

______ 

you know what that means. 

again. 

*stamps foot in protest* top I said

Here! I'll do Micearenice!

~{Micearenice}~

The moon was full and bright, reflecting off the trees. Light, bouncing off, from the stars. And deep down in the forest, a small figure cast barely a shadow at all. She scurried across the ground, quick, moving, almost floating, across the forest floor. Her ears, though small, were alert, she could pick up even the slightest sound. The flap of a butterflies wing. Her brown fur, perfectly camouflaged for the leafy ground, ruffled in the breeze. Her nose twitched. Her whiskers wavered. She froze. Then she took off, running, running, with barely a sound, barely a whizz of light. Almost invisible. She darted up a tree. Light reflecting off her fur. A brown streak, tiny. And a transformation began. When the mouse reached the top of the tall white oak, she whirled around. And began her descent. As she bounded from branch to branch, she grew. Bigger, slower, heavier. But ever graceful and agile. Then, her paws became hands and feet. Attached to arms and legs. Her fur became skin, clothed in a white shirt and furry vest. With leather shorts. Her snout became a face, and mousy brown hair, in a short cut, wavered in the cool, midnight breeze. As she rose up on two legs, she was fully a human. The only thing that remained were her Finley tuned ears. Rounded, a soft brown. And she walked to the end of the branch. And she redied herself. Then, she jumped, turned, a spiral in the air, a flip, a twirl, and landed lightly on all fours. She was Micearenice. 

~_________________~___________________~__________________~___________________~

I hope you like it, Mice! Now, could someone kindly do me? 

Might I have one?

Can somone please do me ?

JohnFQ~ The bird perches high above, resting on a long telephone wire. He cocks his head and stares at the world whizzing by beneath him. The sun is setting, and he goes by a bit unnoticed, but he must get to work. 

The crow spreads his wings and swoops away, flapping towards the clock tower. He narrows his eyes at the little opening in between the letters of the twelve numeral. A hidden hole the workers forgot to patch up.

He dives and lands safely inside, on a patch of odd trinkets. The humans used them to buuld curious objects, and they had names for all of them. The crow pecked at a shiny gear and loose wire. Theze were things the other birds found and didn't want, or parts just shed by the aging Big Ben.

The crow lifted off again, gear and wire in his beak. He flies past the bustling city, the cars, the people, and into a more cottage-like area.

He comes to a halt at a certain window sill, and raps his beak on the glass.

"Ah," answered a raspy voice. The human gets up and unlocks the window, "did you bring the last parts?"

The black bird drops them in his owner's hand proudly.

"Nice." The man sets to work on building something. The crow peeks curiously over hs shoulder, wondering what's going on. 

Finally, he's done, and holds it up to admire. "Now, what should we call it . . . ?"

The crow already knows what he's thinking. "Noooo. Not that," he caws. He grabs a pen and paper, and with his beak, writes a word that fits the invention much better.

___ 

Me?

Could someone do me, please?