Marble glared at Cecil. Cecil had turned the sun-drenched pond into his own stage; The swan’s serene grace only amplified Marble’s rage.

“Look at him,” Marble muttered. “White as morning light. Prancing like a model. And me? I look like coal with white paint stains.”

Marble’s nest was a dazzling treasure trove: coins, buttons, foil, a diamond earring… A monument to stolen sparkle. Yet, the poor magpie couldn’t dull the persistent ache beneath her own black and white feathers.

From the trees, Wily the Raven croaked a laugh. “Oh, don’t sulk, Marble. You also shine in your own way.”

“Don’t” Marble snapped. “The only shiny thing about me is my stash. You’ve got mystery, all sleek and interesting. The parrots have vibrant colour. Even Patches has that… that bluish grey shiny thing going on. .”

The pigeon looked up from pecking crumbs near a bench. “I do? Oh! Lovely. I always thought I looked like porridge.”

Marble sighed dramatically. “Anyway. I’m just, just black and white. No shimmer. No surprise, unless…”

And so began Marble’s new obsession. 

She started collecting with a vengeance. Not the usual shiny trinkets. Not the usual man-made nothings.

“Marble’s gone mad,” whispered Wily the following morning. “She’s stalking me too!” Patches squawked.

Marble was not after them, she was after their shadows. It was the closest she could get to stealing their appearance, their aesthetics. 

She collected the shadows from anything and everything she deemed aesthetically pleasing in the meadow until the whole area was blindingly bright.

Professor Hoot, the spectacled owl, finally called a meeting to address the crisis of the missing shadows.

“Marble,” Hoot said evenly, “You’ve stolen every creature’s shadow and left the meadow blinding.”

Marble fluffed her feathers. “Oh please. As if anyone misses these little things.”

“We do,” Cecil said hotly. “Without shadows, there’s no rest, no coolness. We’re all overexposed!”

Hoot explained, “Light and shadow are both sides of a necessary coin. Like night and day, hot and cold. Take one side, and you disturb the order of all things.”

Marble was unconvinced and defiant. “You should be happy for me. I’ve caught beauty itself. I think you’re just mad because you can’t laugh at me anymore”

She spread her wings and flew off.

The days grew hotter. The meadow wilted. The pond started to dry out. Animals started to leave the area. But Marble couldn’t care less. Was she really after beauty? Or was she acting out of spite?

Then one moonlit evening, she heard a faint squeak. It was Maisy the Mouse.

“Erm, Miss Marble?” Maisy said timidly. “I just wanted to say I think you’re wonderful. Your feathers, black and white, like music on a page. And that iridescence… I wish I looked like that.”

“Iridescence?”

Maisy pushed a spoon in front of Marble. She gazed into it and saw, for the first time, a subtle, rainbow sheen dancing on her tail feathers; the very shine she had always been admiring in others.

“I’ve noticed you have a collection of beautiful shadows, but they disappear in the night. Your beauty doesn’t”

Marble’s beak parted in stunned silence.

Maisy excused herself before Marble could even form the words to thank her.

The next morning, as dawn broke, Marble opened her trove. One by one, she released the shadows. They slid across the meadow like spilled ink, curling under trees and feathers, sighing back into place.

The whole meadow exhaled. Flowers lifted their heads.

Instead of a knowing smile, Professor Hoot harboured a pleasantly surprised look, as this time he had had no involvement in the situation’s resolution.

Marble looked down at her reflection, now proud of her black and white feathers and her newfound iridescence. She let out a laugh.

“Well,” she said, “perhaps I’ll keep just one bottle cap. A girl must have her sparkle.”

As Marble took flight, her shadow followed her faithfully below, dark and perfect, reminding her that she no longer needed to steal beauty, because she had finally found her own.

Sometimes we envy others for things we don’t realise we also possess. Thankfully, we have characters like Maisy to help us open our eyes.