Please support us — Become a Citizen.
 

Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Share

Link

Embed

Copy and paste the following code wherever you'd like this story to appear.

Sign in

  • The wind roars through the forest. It doesn't howl; that would be too thin and lonely a noise. No, this wind is massive, broad, deep, multiply voiced, an invisible mob on the move. Tall trees creak, complain, snarl in response.

    Above the treetops a crescent moon tries to embrace a single, fat star. Lunar brilliance flares across snowdrifts and untrustworthy ice. Rocks, maple boles, woodstacks cut holes in the brilliance.
About

Collecting stories is a way to gather your favorite Cowbird stories into shareable collections — kind of like assembling personal anthologies.

You can see some of our favorite collections here.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    px wide
    px tall
    Embed code (copy and paste into your web page)
    Would you like to send another?

      Sprouting a story is a way to respond to one story with a story of your own — kind of like sitting around a campfire and following the flow of conversation.

      To sprout stories, please become a Citizen.

          Better browser, please.

          To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.