KORBIN
The raven kept its eyes closed. Shut off from a world that had once been everything it knew. That was still everything. But even beneath the hunter's heavy coat, wrapped in darkness, it was impossible to shut out the sounds. Footfalls on snow. Voices echoing between walls of stone and precious wood. The cadence of a man's stride painted a vivid picture within its avian mind that clashed with what a bird should know. A turn there. Twenty paces, then down another path. Double that distance, and turn again. All the houses were familiar. All the roads were the same. And even when a door clicked shut and silence fell, there was still the familiar scent of woodsmoke, leather and thawing snow. Of food and man and everything that had once been warm and comfortable. Home.
Korbin. The raven stirred involuntarily. Opened its eyes and shuffled away from the towering man as it was set down. Dark wings shifted and ruffled, uncertainty etched in every line of the bird's form as it peered around. Gazing at the door. At windows. At the man, and then away.
It hated that word. That name. It sounded so much like a curse, or maybe a plea. Which would be worse..? It didn't know.
Testing its wing carefully, the bird stretched it out. Flapped tentatively, but stopped immediately when pain flashed through the limb. Turning its back on the man - the captor - the bird that had once been Korbin began to preen. Carefully dragging its large beak along the feathers of the injured wing. Tugging out damaged ones. Aligning the whole. In the warmer air of the house, blood once frozen began to thaw, and dripped sluggishly down onto the floor.
Korbin. The raven stirred involuntarily. Opened its eyes and shuffled away from the towering man as it was set down. Dark wings shifted and ruffled, uncertainty etched in every line of the bird's form as it peered around. Gazing at the door. At windows. At the man, and then away.
It hated that word. That name. It sounded so much like a curse, or maybe a plea. Which would be worse..? It didn't know.
Testing its wing carefully, the bird stretched it out. Flapped tentatively, but stopped immediately when pain flashed through the limb. Turning its back on the man - the captor - the bird that had once been Korbin began to preen. Carefully dragging its large beak along the feathers of the injured wing. Tugging out damaged ones. Aligning the whole. In the warmer air of the house, blood once frozen began to thaw, and dripped sluggishly down onto the floor.
Young and alone on a long road,
Once I lost my way
Once I lost my way
