"In mythology, if an owl flew over an army before battle, victory was imminent. However to some, the owl is a bird of ill omen". He paused, scouring the encyclopedia of a mind he had. "Also, locals to this island consider the owl to be a very wise animal. Before a long journey, they listen to the owls. The owls make two different sounds; the first means it is safe to go, and the second means it's better to stay at home." Cato paused, seemingly lost in thought. "Well, what kind of sound did that one make?" I asked, tapping my foot. He shrugged, "Honestly, I don’t know. I’ll have to research it. Not to mention the fact I have no idea what the symbolism is when an owl kills a butterfly." "That was very unhelpful, Cato," I said, looking back out at the lake. "It would have been better to never have seen that at all." "Well said, Kaitlyn. That is often the case with signs." I wanted to shake him. "Anyway," Cato brushed his hands on his pants as if it would brush off the entire incident, "let’s get down to business. Sit down with me." I followed his lead, sitting right next to the edge of the water and removing my shoes. A silky layer of bright green moss served as a soft blanket. We settled in, enjoying the small comfort nature had to offer.
