The Song of the Nightingale

There was a Nightingale that sung her song to the creatures of the wood as they hid their offspring from the stalkers that lurk in the night. She sung in the hopes that her soft melody would ease the burden of these poor animals, but always she was overlooked. The Loon was the talk of the wood, with her odd calls that would make the young rabbits giggle. It was the fashion of the age, and the Loon basked in vogue.

Though the Nightingale was jealous of the Loon, still she sang her tune in the hopes that one day the art that gave her so much joy might be noticed. Each night she could be heard by all, and yet she was met by not but passive scorn. "Your melody is sweet, but look to the Loon! Take note her style and make copy that you may share in her popularity," the Wise Owl advised. But the Nightingale stayed true to her soul, and sang on in her own fashion.

There were a few that gathered to her, for they saw the truth; that the Nightingale sang in harmony with the universe. But there would ne'er be fame for her, as the stalkers of the night were drawn by her voice too, and she was eaten to the dismay of no one.

Then a strange thing happened. As the creatures laid down their heads to sleep, their minds were unsettled. Something was amiss. They had not their Nightingale to sing them to sleep amid the dread of night. Soon, they made their voices heard. "Bring to us the like of the Nightingale, again," they cried to the Loon, and she did her best to oblige. But the Loon could not bring back the song that was missed, as she had not the voice, nor was she accustomed to the nocturne. And so it was that the creatures grew tired of the Loon's quirk. In her stead, they sang the song of the Nightingale in their hearts long after she was gone, and forever was she remembered as the fairest of the songbirds.