Huginn perched on the edge of a skyscraper, the city buzzing below him like a hive of restless mortals. It had started as a typical journey—scouting Midgard, gathering wisdom for Odin. But this time, his sharp eyes had caught something peculiar: humans staring at glowing rectangles, their faces alight with strange expressions.

Curiosity led him to a coffee shop, where he perched by a window and watched. The humans scrolled endlessly, pausing to tap glowing hearts and laugh at tiny videos of cats falling off furniture. He tilted his head, intrigued. Knowledge was being exchanged here, but in a way unlike any he had seen before.

Huginn wasn’t one to shy away from new methods of gathering wisdom. He tapped into the humans' network, adopting a sleek black phone left unattended on a table. Within hours, his account, @RavenOfOdin, began to gain followers.

At first, Huginn shared what he always had: wisdom. Cryptic insights from the Allfather, snippets of ancient Norse poetry, and warnings about the cyclical nature of time. But the response was… tepid. A mere handful of likes, a trickle of new followers.

Then, in a moment of idle experimentation, Huginn posted a selfie—a dramatic silhouette against a blood-red sunset, captioned: "Eyes on the horizon. #WisdomWednesday." The likes poured in.

He posted more. Photos of his wings gleaming in the moonlight. Videos of himself plucking fries off unsuspecting humans’ plates, set to jaunty music. A viral clip of him cawing over the sound of a ringing church bell, captioned: "When you outsmart the gods themselves. #Mood."

Soon, @RavenOfOdin was a sensation. Mortals flooded his comments with admiration: “So wise!” “So aesthetic!” “Omg, how do you do it??”

But as the days turned into weeks, Huginn noticed something unsettling. His connection to the Allfather grew faint, as though his mind were no longer soaring alongside Muninn’s but tethered to the endless churn of likes, comments, and followers. He had begun to crave the validation of humans, their fleeting praise eclipsing the pursuit of true understanding.

One day, perched atop a billboard, he gazed at the city below. A notification pinged—another comment begging for wisdom—but Huginn hesitated. Was this wisdom? Or merely noise?

He closed his eyes and remembered the sound of Odin’s voice, ancient and steady: "Knowledge is not in the applause, but in the silence that follows understanding."

With a sharp caw, Huginn leapt into the sky, abandoning the phone on the billboard. He soared higher and higher, feeling the wind under his wings, the clarity returning to his thoughts. The glowing screens and their empty promises faded into the distance.

When he returned to Asgard, Odin stood by the great tree Yggdrasil, stroking Muninn’s feathers. Huginn landed on the Allfather’s outstretched arm, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks.

“Did you learn much in Midgard?” Odin asked, his single eye gleaming with curiosity.

Huginn cawed softly, lowering his head. “I learned what it means to confuse the noise of the crowd with the truth of the world. And I learned how easily one can lose sight of wisdom chasing shadows of admiration.”

Odin nodded, his smile faint but approving. “A lesson well worth learning.”

And so Huginn resumed his place at Odin’s side, his heart now wiser. The humans of Midgard may have forgotten @RavenOfOdin, but Huginn would never forget the lesson: wisdom is not measured by the attention it garners but by the depth of its truth.