This lone phoenix took on the character of a small falcon, with its short, sharp bill designed for tearing flesh from bone. With a wingspan of 11 inches, he is the smallest bird of the series.
The final two did not wish to be separated. They seem to be locked in an eternal dance as they soar in tandem, a study in shadow and light.
Every so often a series of creatures will naturally run its course. It is as if the idea that once burned hot has fizzled to a small ember and threatens to go out entirely. Rather than force the idea and run the risk of extinguishing it forever, it becomes time to let the ember glow in it's bed of coals. Perhaps a new breath of life will uncover it in the future, fanning the flames of creativity until it burns white hot again. Perhaps it won't. Either way, I have learned that once an idea has gone cold, it is best to walk away. What will be will be.
Charlatan. Fake. Trickster. This Pumpkin-headed Scarecrow has disguised himself as a witch and is trying his hand at a devious brew. Is he attempting to concoct a potion to do away with the crows once and for all, or does he by chance have a more sinister intent?
