Back at the camp, next to the fire pit, Ald stood guard while Ehavi bandaged the gashed leg of Halge.

As for Halge, he had been rendered unconscious by the pain, yet he maintained a steady breath and had not lost a worrisome amount of blood. Ehavi had deft hands for tending to the injured, and Ald didn’t take long to notice. He knew some first aid and had helped with the tourniquet, but as soon as he noticed he was hindering her work instead of helping, he began pacing around the camp, as if in a small patrolling route.

“Ald, do you mind me asking, how did you know?” she said, breaking the silence between them.

Ald looked at her in the eyes, sat across the extinguished campfire, over the wet stone floor, and let the now gentle cloudtears fall over him.

“I saw bubbles on the mud. Then I looked at the thing, and It reminded me of the upper jaw of an animal skull. From there, the head did its thing, and I thought of the possibility of the lower jaw moving underground. Then I just did what I thought logical: see if the lower jaw could be stabbed.”

Ehavi nodded. “Well, you saved our skin back there, so, thanks.” A raven landed on the top of the nearest tent, catching her attention. “Poor thing must be seeking refuge from the weather.”

“In saved mine and Halge’s before yours. He could be anyone. Do you want help to carry him inside a tent?”

“No. I worry not about hypothermia, but fever. As long as the clouds cry, the water will aid in keeping the heat at bay.”

“Are you sure you know what you are doing?”

She shrugged. “He won’t die under my watch, Ald. Yet, make sure nothing tries to facilitate said death.”

Another pair of ravens landed on the vertexes of another two tents. Ald’s hand instinctively went for the handle of his sword.

“It’s just birds of ill omen. They must be waiting for Halge to die.”

Ald glared at her, gesturing upwards, so she would notice the same thing he had.

“What?” she promptly gave up.

Two more ravens landed on other two tents: now a semicircle of birds watched over them.

“Birds can seldom fly when wet.”

Gradually, more birds joined their peers, until they completed the circle.

“Crows like to fly in groups, Ald. I don’t think this is particularly weird. Let me care for our brother in peace.”

“Ravens,” Ald corrected her. “Ravens are not gregarious year round. In spring, they fly, at most, in pairs.”

The birds cocked their heads as if they were curious: all to the left first, all to the right then. This made Ehavi stand and take her dagger out, ready to stab whatever dared approach her.

“Just,” said the first raven.

“What,” said the second, counting counterclockwise.

“I,” said the third

“Expected,” added the fourth.

“From.” And so on.

“A.” And so on.

“Farm.”

“Boy.”

The ravens smiled with all the teeth they had, but shouldn’t. Felsian teeth, adorning raven beaks, with more than should be able to fitting on the mouth of every bird. They eyes shone blood-red, and their lower eyelids were curved, as in the face of them who force smiles.

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Ehavi let out a desperate scream, dropped the dagger and raced to the city for dear life, falling in the mud twice only to scramble up her feet while still crawling away. Ald Held his position, only turning his head to address the birds to his sides and back.

“If you come in peace, these are not manners. I am Ald, state your name.”

“I.”

“Have.” This time, the sentence proceeded clockwise, always originating from the raven Ald was facing.

“Many.”

“Names.”

“I.”

“Have.”

“No.”

“Name.”

Ald dropped his sword, letting the metal clang against the wet stone of the ground. Whatever could make ravens flock, speak and grow teeth wouldn’t be felled by steel.

“There is no need to fight you, correct? You speak, whoever you are. Furthermore, you know me. And I… I think I know you.” Ald pointed at each raven on the circle, turning on his axis, as if counting them. “One of your birds visited me the other day.”

“Indeed.”

“I.”

“Watch.”

“Over.”

“All.”

“Uncles.”

“Aunts.”

“All.”

Ald sat , deciding which raved he would face for the remainder of the encounter.

“Your name. I told you mine,” he demanded.

“Some call me Murder,” began the raven in front of him. “, Ill Omen, Death On Wings.”

“But you may address me as Unkindness,” said all the others in unison.

“Unkindness. A most unfitting name, considering you are the first misshapen that speaks to me as an equal.” Ald stood and extended a hand, with all fingers closed but one, providing a perching point for any raven that dared that the invitation. “Gleur spoke about you, Masterwork.”

“Called me annoying, a nuisance. Because the news I bring are unoften pleasant, he is unfond of me.”

Ald gestured her to land on his finger. It was tiring to hold the arm spread out for a while, more so with the soldier wristbands.

“I prefer the tents,” said Unkindness.

Ald gave up, lowering his arm. The ravens flew, spiraling into the air, converging above their uncle. A twister of black feathers formed, and began attracting more birds that, until then, had hid in the nearby trees, behind nearby rocks. The flap of their wings became the only sound to occupy Ald’s world, and the sunlight got captured by the cloud of corvids, submerging him in shadows. This all he took with tranquility, looking above, at the mass of birds, watching feathers fall over his face once and again, caressing his pale skin. A part of him was scared, sure, but some frightful things are worth watching. Shuddering before the magnificence of Unkindness was its own reward.

Beholding the siphon of ravens, he felt like he could wait for the rains forever, if only he could forever watch the slick black feathers bubble, wave, frolic around the center of the storm.

Then the sphere of birds opened and she descended through a spiral stair made out of birds with their wings extended, frozen in the air. She was dressed in the feathers of the ravens, that fit her as a second skin. Looking closely, one could notice that her pale face was made out of white feathers tightly interwoven. But, from Ald’s point of view, she looked almost wholly Felsian. A sister like any other, with deep black eyes and unusually dark hair, but no different from ones that, now and then, fell from the skies.

He snapped out of it and looked at Halge, who slept soundly, and would have been taken for dead if not for the movement of his ribcage.

The woman continued her descent as Ald fumbled, searching for his sword without taking the gaze away from Unkindness. He didn’t intend to attack her, of course, but felt the overcoming need to hold onto the weapon, if only to bring an illogical sense of safety when interacting with her.

“There is no need for fear, Ald,” she said with her, in first instance, mellifluous voice. One needed to pay unwarranted amounts of attention to notice that, below the surface, the words were just the cawing of every raven that had ever lived.

“Nor there is need for you, and yet you are here,” he said, trying to stop his lips from trembling.

“There’s need for neither of us, I’ll grant you that.” She tapped his nose with her index finger, and, to Ald, it felt like the scaled caress of a bird’s leg. “And there’s no need for spring blossoms, and there’s no need for the blades of grass, and there’s no need for the salamanders that wander in crystalline ponds, nor for the water that fills them. This renders my point about fear moot, maybe, a failed attempt at pacifying you.”

“Why did you come to me? Is it because I learned about Wildfire?”

“No. I can peer into the future. Ald, due to your actions, a Felsian may walk these plains a thousand years down the line. A Felsian may sing melancholic songs while walking the walls. Tomorrow a Felsian may do everything a Felsian does today and more, but only if you choose well. I cannot say I care if you do, but it will be amusing to see you try. Run ahead, my disgraced, chosen one. Entertain Unkindness. ”

She touched Ald’s nose again, and when he blinked, she was gone, a lone darkest feather slowly falling, going from left to right and vice versa in front of his face, landing over the steel of his sword, as if mocking him.

Thunder rolled, and torrential cloudcries followed. He was not Ehavi. He could not let what had happened to him prevent from getting Halges to shelter. He wasn’t sure the tents would resist the renewed force of the storm but, for now, he lacked a better alternative.