Against popular belief, we owls are not very intelligent creatures. We are an extremely gullible species, willing to believe in almost anything, and this flaw in our ways has lead to the children kidnapping us from our homes. We continue to move, carving out little doors in the trees, hollowing out the inside for a home made of pine needles and any leaves we can still find under all this snow. Our current home has confused the children, for it is high enough that we can barely hear their voices promising us figs and mice if we come down. The only voice we've heard this week is of Thaddeus Lowe's. We opened our little doors in the trees and peeked out to see a man below wearing a big coat, a red scarf, and a long icy beard. He was singing a war hymn that went:

Melt this snow (it's cold)

Clear these skies (they're gray)

Show us warmth (you're cruel)

Say your goodbyes (goodbye! goodbye!)

We saluted Thaddeus by hooting the way owls hoot and he looked up in our direction and waved. He then went back to singing his war hymn and walking in the direction that is rumored to be the direction where February lives. We too have had the same dream the townsfolk have had of Thaddeus slitting the throat of February. But we also see something else, that is, the entire town burning to the ground. We see our feathered coats burning in a funnel from our head to our toes.