Into the Unknown

A Story of the Hare and the Owl

“I’m afraid,” whispered the Hare to the Owl, who had just landed beside him at the cave’s entrance.
“Afraid? Of what?”
“Of fear itself. It blocks the cave’s entrance with its gloomy form, lurking there with claws of shadow, ready to seize anyone who, weary and seeking shelter, looks for a place to rest.”
Trembling, the Hare huddled beneath the Owl’s wing. The Owl remained calm.

“Look at me,” she said gently.
“What do you see when I spread my wings?”
The Hare glanced from the Owl to the ground, where a dark, formless mass seemed to swallow him as her wings rose against the round moon.
“Your shadow,” he whispered. “It’s everywhere.”

The Owl nodded.
“Everything has a shadow. A dark side and a light one. You only see the dark side of fear. But it, too, has a bright sister. You just have to find her.”
The Hare lifted his head, but the Owl spread her wings and rose silently into the sky, her pale feathers blending with the night.

Confused, the Hare stayed behind. Could it really be true that fear had a bright sister? Hesitantly, he hopped closer to the cave’s entrance, feeling the cold hands of darkness brush against his fur.
“Fear,” he whispered into the gloom. “What is your bright sister?”

Fear remained silent. But something stirred. The claw-like shadows grew denser, their distorted outlines sharpening until they no longer slashed through the darkness like phantoms but revealed silhouettes that reminded the Hare of something familiar. Cautiously, he drew closer until he recognized what they were: the claws of fear were roots! But not ordinary ones—a woven palace of gnarled towers, domes, and tiny houses sprouted from the earth, climbing the cave’s walls.

With wide eyes, the Hare leaned toward one of the tiny houses. Carved into its bark wall was a minuscule window, barely larger than a pinhead. Behind it glowed a faint light—like a distant star. Was this the realm of the root sprites, those shy forest dwellers hardly anyone ever saw?

In his excitement over the discovery, the Hare forgot his fear. Carefully, so as not to startle the root sprites, he crept back to the cave’s entrance.
The Owl was already waiting for him.

“What do you see in the cave now?” she asked at once.
The Hare’s eyes sparkled.
“Root houses! Tiny windows glowing in the darkness—and beyond them, so many more adventures! It’s…” He paused. “It’s not dark anymore. The fear… it’s gone.”

He pointed to the entrance, which had once seemed so foreboding. Now, even from a distance, he could see them—the roots winding through the dark, and the glow where the root sprite’s window shone.

The Owl nodded.
“It’s your curiosity that drives away fear, turns shadows into light, and kindles a light within you that guides you through the darkness. Curiosity is the bright sister of fear. And you can always choose which one to follow: curiosity or fear.”