And, also, love.
Pluto brooded.
2. The White Owl
Demo suddenly heard thrashing, mixed with the distress call of a bird. Rounding a bend in the mountain trail he quickly stopped. Before him was a scene of impending tragedy.
An owl, beautiful, with white feathers, struggled. Enmeshed in a clever trap it was unable to break free. A cunning net had extended above the narrow ravine, and the bird had triggered an ingenious mechanism that released the net. Its wings threshed uselessly as it tumbled on the rocky ground.
And creeping ever closer, a fox. Its eyes gleamed in anticipation. Saliva dripped from its open mouth. The sun's rays reflected from the glistening fangs. Brown and white matted fur clung tightly to its body. Gaunt and hungry, its every muscle tensed, it waited eagerly for the right moment to strike.
It crouched to spring, inched closer to its prey.
"No you don't." Demo whispered the words. Laying aside the staff, smoothly, with hardly a thought, Demo drew an arrow from its pouch. Notching it to the string he drew the bow.
Even as he did so the fox sprang, jaws open wide.
With a whistle the arrow flew through the air!