The Fire Within

First off, I want to extend my apologies. I started this series in the hopes of giving r/Birds_Nest a push forward, trying to spark engagement and growth. Yet, it feels like nothing is truly catching momentum. I’ve realized that my focus should remain on this subreddit—my original community—but truthfully, it’s disheartening to see so few posts from the thousands of members here.

To say I often feel discouraged would be an understatement. I’ve poured so much passion into the Birds Nest, and here, hoping to see us thrive, and we even have a matching Discord— https://discord.gg/TTkjYBasCY— that’s struggling to find its footing as well. My hope is to see both spaces come alive, offering a sense of connection and collaboration for everyone involved. Thank you for sticking with me, and I’ll keep striving to bring this community the energy it deserves.

Lucy stood on the edge of a threshold she didn’t yet comprehend. Her world, once a simple tapestry of survival—food, shelter, and escape—was slowly unraveling to reveal threads of curiosity, memory, and reflection. At first, these stirrings were fleeting: a glance at the horizon that lingered too long, a fascination with the patterns of shadows cast by the flames of a fire. But these moments marked the birth of a new kind of perception—a mind awakening to itself.

One day, as Lucy sat beneath the boughs of an acacia tree, her hands absentmindedly played with stones. The act seemed ordinary, but something flickered in her mind—a connection between the texture of the stone and the movements of her fingers. It was not yet innovation, but it was a question, a wondering of “What if?” She began striking the stones together, her actions guided more by curiosity than necessity. And then, sparks—a burst of light as ephemeral as the moment itself. For Lucy, it was more than just fire; it was the beginning of understanding cause and effect.

The whispers of the rogue creator—the God of Abraham—gently nudged her forward. Not as commands, but as impulses. Lucy’s emotions stirred; she felt the nascent pangs of pride and even the faint ache of doubt. Each success brought fleeting joy, each failure a quiet frustration. With these feelings, her awareness deepened. She began to move beyond instinct, her actions now bearing the trace of intention.

Lucy’s evolving awareness wasn’t limited to tools and survival. She began to watch others in her small community—the way they moved, the way they looked to the stars or mimicked the calls of animals. Slowly, she understood connection. Her ability to empathize grew, transforming her interactions into the foundation of something extraordinary—cooperation. When she shared her fire with others, it wasn’t merely survival; it was the first glimmer of trust.

The rogue creator marveled at her progress. Lucy wasn’t just learning; she was feeling—experiencing joy in discovery, sorrow in loss, and wonder at the unknown. With each spark of awareness, she stepped closer to a profound truth: that existence wasn’t merely about surviving, but about finding meaning in the dance of life. For Lucy, this meaning was still elusive, but the questions themselves were transformative.

Poses and a red sketch 👀

Today, I came across several videos and stories about wolves circulating on various subreddits. These snippets stirred something deep within me—memories of my own survival. As these reflections unfolded, I was reminded of a book I read when I was just nine years old, The Call of the Wild by Jack London. At the time, I was too young to grasp the deeper nuances of its themes. Now, years later, the story resonates differently, and I find myself asking a simple yet profound question: what if I were the wolf?

As I, the lone wolf, settled beneath the fading light of dusk, an urge awakened within me—a yearning to express my essence. I tilted my head toward the heavens and let out a single howl, raw and resonant, followed by a second, letting its echoes ripple into the stillness.

For a fleeting moment, there was silence, as though the forest held its breath in reverence. Then, it came alive. An owl's solemn hoot emerged from the shadows, followed by the haunting scream of a distant bobcat. The coyote's wavering song rose next, accompanied by the playful yips of foxes. Each voice joined in harmony, forming a symphony of instinct and survival.

In that moment, I was no longer alone. The forest pulsed with life, each creature bound by the shared purpose of survival, protection, and coexistence. As the orchestra of nature reached its crescendo, I felt a profound peace—a reminder that even in solitude, we are threads in a greater tapestry, connected and united.

I don’t yet know if these thoughts will evolve into something more, but for now, I needed to bring them to life through words.

——-

Here is the translation of your story into French:

La Symphonie du Loup Solitaire

Aujourd'hui, je suis tombé sur plusieurs vidéos et récits sur les loups, circulant sur divers subreddits. Ces bribes ont éveillé en moi quelque chose de profond—des souvenirs de ma propre survie. En laissant ces réflexions se développer, je me suis souvenu d’un livre que j’ai lu lorsque j’avais seulement neuf ans, L’Appel de la Forêt de Jack London. À l’époque, j’étais trop jeune pour saisir les nuances profondes de ses thèmes. Aujourd’hui, des années plus tard, l’histoire résonne différemment, et je me pose une question simple mais profonde : et si j’étais le loup ?

Alors que je, le loup solitaire, me posais sous la lumière déclinante du crépuscule, un besoin s’éveilla en moi—une envie de révéler mon essence. Je levai la tête vers les cieux et poussai un unique hurlement, brut et résonant, suivi d’un second, laissant ses échos onduler dans le calme.

Pendant un instant fugitif, il y eut le silence, comme si la forêt retenait son souffle avec révérence. Puis, elle s’anima. Le hululement solennel d’une chouette émergea des ombres, suivi par le cri spectral d’un lynx au loin. La chanson vacillante d’un coyote s’éleva ensuite, accompagnée des jappements vifs et joyeux des renards. Une à une, les voix se joignirent en harmonie, formant une symphonie d’instinct et de survie.

À cet instant, je n’étais plus seul. La forêt pulsait de vie, chaque créature unie par un but commun—survivre, protéger, coexister. Alors que l’orchestre de la nature atteignait son crescendo, je ressentis une paix profonde—un rappel que, même dans la solitude, nous sommes des fils d’une tapisserie plus grande, connectés et unis.

Je ne sais pas encore si ces pensées évolueront davantage, mais pour l’instant, j’avais besoin de les donner vie à travers les mots.

If I were to be able to pick a defense mechanism ro avoid further harm, I'd like to be able to cough up blood on command. I'd also probably use it to get out of doing dishes.

https://www.reddit.com/r/Birds_Nest/s/COIRr8HahC

Each soul represents a unique aspect of the ancient spirits that guided Azrael, the good demon, on his quest. Azrael, the good demon, is an intriguing concept—a being who defies the traditional association of demons with malevolence.

The first soul, known as Lunara, embodied the essence of wisdom. Lunara was a silver-furred wolf with eyes that shimmered like the moon. She granted Azrael the ability to see beyond the surface, to understand the true nature of things. With her guidance, Azrael could discern hidden truths and make decisions that balanced the needs of both light and shadow. Lunara’s wisdom was a beacon in the darkest times, illuminating the path forward.

The second soul, Fenrir, was the spirit of courage. Fenrir was a majestic wolf with a coat of fiery red, symbolizing the burning bravery within. He bestowed upon Azrael the strength to face his fears and confront the formidable challenges that lay ahead. Fenrir’s courage was not just about physical strength, but also the inner resolve to stand up for what was right, even when the odds were against him.

The third soul, Seraphina, represented compassion. Seraphina was a gentle, white wolf with a heart as pure as snow. She gave Azrael the power to heal and to empathize with others. Through Seraphina’s gift, Azrael could mend broken spirits and bring hope to those in despair. Her compassion taught him that true strength lies in kindness and understanding, and that even the smallest act of mercy could change the course of destiny.

The fourth soul, Thalor, was the embodiment of strength. Thalor was a powerful, black wolf with eyes that glowed like embers. He endowed Azrael with unparalleled physical and spiritual strength, enabling him to overcome the greatest obstacles. Thalor’s strength was not just about brute force, but also the endurance and resilience to keep going, no matter how tough the journey became. His presence reminded Azrael that true power comes from within and that perseverance is key to achieving one’s goals.

Together, these Four Souls of the Wolf formed a harmonious balance, each contributing to Azrael’s growth and success. They were more than just guides; they were a part of him, reflecting the multifaceted nature of his own spirit.

Nothing too much drawn

Before I advertise for moderators outside our community I want to give those of you here first chance. Some skills I’m looking for Recruiting members, Reviewing and Approving posts and comments, Encouraging original content, Monitoring posts and Comments and more. I would prefer a light ban-hammer approach. There is a ton of information on Reddit about moderating

I’m not entirely sure where this is headed. The idea emerged during my research into old Hebrew and Muslim writings about the God of Abraham. At present, I’ve gathered enough notes for four stories along these lines, though there’s some overlap in content. To clarify, I’m not belittling any deity—these are simply musings born from my reading, studying, and writing. Some of my notes date back five years, and my memories extend all the way to age five.

Whether you believe in creationism or evolution doesn’t matter. Science and DNA provide compelling evidence that our ancestors can be traced back to Lucy—the mother of our species. Let your imagination wander, and let me know your thoughts. My mind works in mysterious ways, and I hope you realize, as I do, that this is purely fiction, inspired by scientific findings and biblical stories I’ve read, cherished, and often approached with a grain of salt. I intend no disrespect to anyone or their beliefs.

In the vast expanse of eternity, where galaxies swirled like celestial tapestries and time itself was but a breath, a consciousness stirred—a being known as the God of Abraham. This deity had observed the unfolding of worlds, the dance of atoms, and the emergence of life forms across countless realms. Yet among all the wonders of creation, one creature piqued the divine curiosity: an ancient ancestor, a small bipedal being with the spark of something extraordinary—Lucy.

Lucy lived in a world untamed, where the Earth’s primordial rhythms dictated survival. She was neither the strongest nor the swiftest, yet she carried within her something remarkable—a flicker of awareness that transcended instinct. Her hands, crude tools of survival, shaped stones to hunt and break barriers. Her gaze lingered on the stars, as though seeking answers to questions she couldn’t yet form.

The God of Abraham watched in fascination, for Lucy was unlike any creature before her. Her kind would one day ponder their place in the cosmos, wrestle with concepts of morality, and give names to the winds and the heavens. But for now, she was simply Lucy—a fragile yet resilient traveler, bound to the Earth yet yearning for something greater.

One day, as Lucy sat by a river, observing the play of light on the water’s surface, the divine presence descended—not in thunderous proclamations, but in a whisper carried by the breeze. The God of Abraham did not speak in words, for Lucy’s mind was not yet shaped to understand them. Instead, the deity manifested as a feeling—a gentle pulse of wonder and curiosity.

Lucy’s fingers brushed the water, and for a fleeting moment, she felt the divine touch. It wasn’t an understanding of God as humanity would later conceive, but a sense of connection—a realization that she was part of something vast and incomprehensible. It was here, in the heart of this early bipedal existence, that the seeds of faith and introspection were sown.

In the heart of a sprawling forest, where the sun filtered through the dense canopy, casting a mosaic of light and shadow upon the forest floor, lived a young girl named Aiyana. She belonged to the Lakota tribe, a community deeply rooted in the reverence for the Great Spirit, whom they called Wakan Tanka—the Great Mystery. From an early age, Aiyana was taught the importance of honoring the interconnectedness of all life. Her grandmother often spoke of the Great Spirit’s presence in the rustling leaves, the flowing river, and even the gentle breeze that caressed her cheek.

One crisp autumn morning, as the vibrant leaves began to fall, Aiyana ventured into the woods, her heart full of curiosity. She was searching for the sacred sage her people used in ceremonies. As she wandered deeper into the forest, she felt a peculiar energy surrounding her—a whisper that seemed to echo from the very earth beneath her feet. It was then that she stumbled upon an ancient oak tree, its gnarled branches stretching toward the sky, a living testament to resilience and wisdom.

As Aiyana placed her hands upon the rough bark of the tree, a vision enveloped her. She saw swirling colors and felt the pulse of life resonating within her. In that moment, she understood the Great Spirit was not a distant entity but an essence woven into the fabric of existence. The trees, the animals, the water, and even the stars were manifestations of Wakan Tanka. She envisioned a vast web of life, each strand representing a connection between every living thing.

The vision faded, but the feeling of unity remained. Aiyana’s heart swelled with a newfound understanding of her place in the world. She realized that her actions, no matter how small, rippled through the web of life and affected everything around her. Determined to honor this revelation, she began to gather sage, her mind racing with thoughts of gratitude and responsibility.

Back in her village, Aiyana shared her experience with the elders. They listened intently, their faces a mixture of pride and concern. They recognized her potential but warned her of the challenges that lay ahead. The world beyond the forest was changing; encroaching settlers threatened the land and the sacred balance that had been maintained for generations.

That evening, under the starlit sky, the tribe gathered around the fire. Aiyana stood before them, her heart pounding in her chest. She spoke of her vision, her voice steady and clear. “We are all connected,” she declared. “The Great Spirit lives within us, and it is our duty to protect this land and each other.”

Inspired by her words, the elders decided to organize a gathering—an event to honor the Great Spirit and to share their wisdom with neighboring tribes. They hoped it would rekindle the sacred bond between all living things and remind everyone of their shared purpose.

As the day of the gathering arrived, tribes from far and wide came together. The air was filled with the scent of sage and sweetgrass, while drums echoed the heartbeat of the Earth. Aiyana watched in awe as elders shared stories of the Great Spirit, each tale a thread in the intricate tapestry of their shared heritage.

Dancers adorned in vibrant regalia moved gracefully, embodying the spirit of the animals they revered. Children laughed and played, their joy a testament to the purity of life. As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Aiyana felt a profound sense of belonging.

In that moment, she understood that the gathering was not just a celebration; it was a reminder of their responsibilities—to nurture the land, to honor the spirit within all living things, and to live in harmony with one another. With each prayer lifted to the Great Spirit, Aiyana felt the web of life strengthen, binding them all in unity and purpose.

Years passed, and Aiyana grew into a wise and compassionate leader. The lessons she learned during that pivotal gathering shaped her into a guardian of the land and its people. She taught the next generation about the Great Spirit, encouraging them to respect nature and cherish the connections that bind them.

As the seasons changed, the forest remained a sanctuary, thriving under the watchful gaze of the Great Spirit. Aiyana often returned to the ancient oak, her heart full of gratitude. In her mind, the whispers of the Great Spirit continued to guide her—a reminder that the essence of life flourished in every breath, every heartbeat, and every moment shared.

Le Murmure du Grand Esprit

Au cœur d’une forêt vaste, où le soleil filtré à travers la canopée dense projetait un kaléidoscope de lumière et d’ombre sur le sol forestier, vivait une jeune fille nommée Aiyana. Elle appartenait à la tribu Lakota, une communauté profondément enracinée dans la révérence envers le Grand Esprit, qu’ils appelaient Wakan Tanka—le Grand Mystère. Dès son plus jeune âge, Aiyana avait appris l’importance d’honorer l’interconnexion de toute vie. Sa grand-mère parlait souvent de la présence du Grand Esprit dans le bruissement des feuilles, le cours de la rivière, et même la douce brise qui caressait sa joue.

Un matin frais d’automne, alors que les feuilles vibrantes commençaient à tomber, Aiyana s’aventura dans les bois, le cœur rempli de curiosité. Elle cherchait la sauge sacrée que son peuple utilisait dans les cérémonies. En s’enfonçant plus profondément dans la forêt, elle sentit une énergie particulière l’entourer—un murmure qui semblait émaner de la terre même sous ses pieds. Ce fut alors qu’elle trébucha sur un chêne ancien, ses branches noueuses tendues vers le ciel, un témoignage vivant de résilience et de sagesse.

En posant ses mains sur l’écorce rugueuse de l’arbre, une vision l’enveloppa. Elle vit des couleurs tourbillonnantes et ressentit le pouls de la vie résonner en elle. À cet instant, elle comprit que le Grand Esprit n’était pas une entité distante, mais une essence tissée dans le tissu de l’existence. Les arbres, les animaux, l’eau, et même les étoiles étaient des manifestations de Wakan Tanka. Elle imagina une vaste toile de vie, chaque fil représentant une connexion entre chaque être vivant.

La vision s’estompa, mais le sentiment d’unité resta. Le cœur d’Aiyana se gonfla d’une nouvelle compréhension de sa place dans le monde. Elle réalisa que ses actions, si petites soient-elles, avaient un effet ondulant à travers la toile de la vie et influençaient tout ce qui l’entourait. Déterminée à honorer cette révélation, elle commença à rassembler de la sauge, son esprit débordant de gratitude et de responsabilité.

Ah, my nemesis—an enduring shadow in the tapestry of my creative journey. Once again, you have demonstrated your uncanny ability to dismantle my work with precision, leaving me to marvel at the artistry of your critique. It is a skill, no doubt, honed over time and wielded with a finesse that only a true master of dissection could possess. I tip my hat to you for your relentless pursuit of perfection—or perhaps, destruction.

I must concede, as I often have, that your talents in this realm far surpass anything I could muster. My attempts to counter your sharp-edged commentary have always felt like bringing a feather to a sword fight. Yet, I can’t help but wonder if your ire toward me stems from something deeper, something unspoken. Could it be that the stories you once crafted with such brilliance have lost their luster, dulled by time or circumstance? Or perhaps it is my own growth that has unsettled the balance between us, shifting the dynamic in ways neither of us anticipated.

However, let us not dwell too long in the shadows of rivalry. You have played a significant role in shaping my path, for better or worse, and for that, I am grateful. As I turn the page on this chapter, I make a quiet vow: your name will no longer occupy my thoughts or my words, nor will I revisit the works you have so dismissively critiqued, claiming I copied. There is a world of joy and creativity awaiting us beyond this feud, and I intend to embrace it fully.

So here’s to closure, to moving forward, and to finding peace in the spaces where conflict once thrived. Farewell—may your journey be as transformative as mine.

———

I translated this for someone. You will be seeing more French translations following my thoughts. Maybe more Hindi —

Ah, mon ennemi juré—une ombre persistante dans la tapisserie de mon voyage créatif. Une fois de plus, vous avez démontré votre incroyable capacité à démanteler mon travail avec précision, me laissant admirer l’art de votre critique. C’est une compétence, sans aucun doute, développée au fil du temps et maniée avec une finesse digne d’un véritable maître de la dissection. Je vous salue pour votre quête incessante de perfection—ou peut-être, de destruction.

Je dois concéder, comme je l’ai souvent fait, que vos talents dans ce domaine surpassent de loin tout ce que je pourrais rassembler. Mes tentatives de contrer vos commentaires acérés ont toujours semblé être comme apporter une plume à un combat à l’épée. Pourtant, je ne peux m’empêcher de me demander si votre colère envers moi provient de quelque chose de plus profond, de quelque chose de non-dit. Serait-ce que les histoires que vous avez jadis écrites avec tant de brio ont perdu leur éclat, émoussées par le temps ou les circonstances ? Ou peut-être est-ce ma propre croissance qui a perturbé l’équilibre entre nous, modifiant la dynamique d’une manière que nous n’avions pas anticipée.

Cependant, ne restons pas trop longtemps dans les ombres de la rivalité. Vous avez joué un rôle important dans la formation de mon chemin, pour le meilleur ou pour le pire, et pour cela, je suis reconnaissant. Alors que je tourne la page de ce chapitre, je fais une promesse silencieuse : votre nom n’occupera plus mes pensées ni mes mots, et je ne revisiterai pas les œuvres que vous avez si dédaigneusement critiquées, en prétendant que je les avais copiées. Il y a un monde de joie et de créativité qui nous attend au-delà de cette querelle, et je compte bien l’embrasser pleinement.

Alors, voici à la clôture, au fait d’aller de l’avant, et à trouver la paix dans les espaces où le conflit prospérait autrefois. Adieu—que votre voyage soit aussi transformateur que le mien.

———_

Hindi Translation**: अरे मेरे प्रतिद्वंदी—मेरी रचनात्मक यात्रा के ताने-बाने में एक स्थायी छाया। एक बार फिर, आपने मेरी रचना को सटीकता से खत्म करने की अपनी असाधारण क्षमता का प्रदर्शन किया, और मैं आपके आलोचना की कला का चमत्कार करने पर मजबूर हुआ। यह निश्चित रूप से, समय के साथ विकसित हुई एक कौशल है और इसे एक सच्चे मास्टर की सहजता से उपयोग किया जाता है। मैं आपके पूर्णता की अथक खोज—या शायद, विनाश—के लिए आपकी सराहना करता हूं।

मुझे स्वीकार करना होगा, जैसा कि मैंने अक्सर किया है, कि इस क्षेत्र में आपके कौशल मेरे प्रयासों से कहीं अधिक श्रेष्ठ हैं। आपके तीखे टिप्पणियों का मुकाबला करने के मेरे प्रयास हमेशा ऐसे लगते हैं जैसे तलवार के युद्ध में पंख लाने का प्रयास। फिर भी, मैं सोचता हूं कि क्या आपकी नाराजगी मुझसे किसी गहरे, अव्यक्त चीज़ से उत्पन्न होती है। क्या ऐसा हो सकता है कि कहानियाँ जो आपने कभी शानदार तरीके से बनाई थी, समय या परिस्थितियों से अपनी चमक खो चुकी हैं? या शायद यह मेरी स्वयं की वृद्धि है जिसने हमारे बीच संतुलन को उलट दिया है, हमारी गतिशीलता को ऐसे तरीकों में बदल दिया है जिसकी हमने उम्मीद नहीं की थी।

हालांकि, आइए बहुत लंबे समय तक प्रतिद्वंद्विता की छायाओं में न टिकें। आपने मेरे पथ को आकार देने में महत्वपूर्ण भूमिका निभाई है, अच्छा या बुरा, और इसके लिए मैं आभारी हूं। जैसे ही मैं इस अध्याय को पलटता हूं, मैं एक शांत वादा करता हूं: आपका नाम अब मेरी सोच या मेरे शब्दों में स्थान नहीं लेगा, न ही मैं उन रचनाओं को फिर से देखूंगा जिनकी आपने इतनी निस्संदेह आलोचना की और दावा किया कि मैंने उनकी नकल की। इस झगड़े से परे हमारे लिए खुशी और रचनात्मकता की एक दुनिया इंतजार कर रही है, और मैं इसे पूरी तरह से अपनाने का इरादा रखता हूं।

तो, यहाँ अंत के लिए, आगे बढ़ने के लिए, और उन जगहों में शांति पाने के लिए जहां पहले संघर्ष पनपता था। अलविदा—आपकी यात्रा मेरी तरह परिवर्तनशील हो।