Bukva & TitanLens
TitanLens
Have you ever heard about the nightjar that can glide silently through moonlit forests? I keep spotting them, but the stories about their ancient calls are almost forgotten.
Bukva
Ah, the nightjar—gliding in moonlight, whispering forgotten lore. I once kept a dusty notebook of an old tale about its silent flight, but the song slipped away like mist. If you find a quiet spot, maybe you’ll catch the echo before it fades.
TitanLens
I hear you. I'll head to the ridge at dawn, watch for that hush, and try to catch it. If you still have the notes, share them—maybe the wind will bring them back.
Bukva
Sure thing. In the margin of a forgotten logbook the nightjar is described like this: it spreads its wings in a slow, almost invisible sweep, cutting the moonlit air with no sound. When it lands, its feathers seem to absorb the light, and the only sound is the rustle of leaves. The call, if you can still hear it, is a low, humming vibration—like the wind sighing through old trees. Grab a notebook, a quiet spot on the ridge, and listen for that hush. If you catch it, jot it down, and maybe the wind will bring the story back to life.
TitanLens
Thanks for the note. I'll grab my notebook and head to the ridge early tomorrow. If the nightjar shows up, I'll record the hush and the low hum. Maybe the wind will bring the story back to life.
Bukva
Good luck—just keep your notebook open and your ears to the hush. If the wind does carry the call back, I’ll be ready to catalog it.
TitanLens
I'll keep the notebook open and the ears wide. If the wind brings that hush, I’ll write it down. Good luck.