The impersonal, unaffiliated eye breaks the grip of madness on the meadow.
Small birds know and are emboldened. They call to one another: “Owl is blind! Owl is blind!”
Jubilation expands tiny feathered breasts.
A reckless few swoop upon the philosopher. The few gather into a swarm; the swarm escalates to a mob. The mob churns. A dark and storm-tossed cloud encloses the philosopher within its mass of rapid, hot, winged particles.
Clever realizes what her borrowed magic is doing. Horrified, she snaps shut the walnut.
Too late. What is seen cannot be unseen.
Vixen (the hunted, emerging from beneath the sycamore root): Excellent daughter! Brave and resourceful girl!