It's going to be a long night, the crow thinks to himself. Thoughts like these are the only bastion of levity on a night like this- A night when all other thoughts are drowned out by the howling of the storm. His wings thrash violently as he navigates through what seems like an endless labyrinth of wood. Lightning flashes above him, illuminating the way ahead for a split second. Quite a surprise, but a welcome one at that. Though he can't say the same about the bellowing crash of thunder that follows. The willows twist in the wind as their branches writhe around this way and that, like eldritch monsters hellbent on catching their prey. One wrong maneuver- One stray branch could knock him out of the air. It's not the first time he'd found himself in the middle of a storm... And he knew it wouldn't be the last. Out in the distance, somewhere beyond this entanglement of branches, another light flickers. A reddish-orange glow you'd see from a lantern- One that continues to shine far longer than the lightning. It catches the crow's eye. He knows not where it came from, but he sees no other choice but to follow it... Wherever it may lead. At long last, he escapes the forest. The light shines through an open window- One that belongs to the infamous Haunted House. I knew I'd find my way back here soon enough, the crow laments. Before he can change his mind, the crow perches on the windowsill. Foolish under most circumstances, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Windows like these have claimed the lives of many among his avian kinfolk. Far too many to count. At certain hours of the day, its reflection paints a near-perfect picture of the surrounding forest. The rain may have stopped, but the noises from the storm are deafening. If ever there was a time to close this wretched thing, surely it'd be now? His pondering takes a backseat as he notices the faint outline of an elderly woman sitting at the far end of the room. Light from the fireplace dances across her wrinkled face. They brighten and dim ever so slightly as she sways to and fro upon her rocking chair. It's the unmistakable face of... The Witch! Memories flood the crow's mind- Memories of spying through the other windows across the Haunted House, from the safety of a tree branch. Every day, she brews strange potions in a cauldron. Every night, she clasps her hands together and whispers an inaudible incantation before retiring into her nest of cloth. Who else could summon music from thin air with the flick of
a magic wand? Ignite a mere pile of logs into a blazing fire? That was a feat reserved only for the lightning bolts that crash down from the skies above. Who else could do so but a witch? She slowly rises from her rocking chair, before making her way towards a large wooden box adjacent to the fireplace- The crow's seen her do this before. With frail hands, she drops her magic wand onto a metal disc as it rotates on the surface of the box. A soothing melody envelops the room. It seems to compliment the fallen leaves as they scatter across the ground outside. The crow was no stranger to hearing songs like these from his murder. Nevertheless, the one emanating from that device was... Different, to say the least. That's when The Witch's eyes meet his. The crow freezes in place. To his horror, she approaches. He stares intently as she slips her hand inside her pocket... And pulls something out. He braces himself for whatever lies within her palm. Thoughts race through his head a mile a minute. Did she intend to punish him for trespassing? Would she cast a spell on him? Cook him for dinner inside her boiling cauldron like one of those turkeys? Before his thoughts can race any further, The Witch stops abruptly. Inches away from the crow. She extends her arm, before opening her wrinkled digits to drop whatever she's holding right in front of him. It's... It's... ...Seeds! A pile of them, no less! He pecks them off the windowsill one by one, savoring each and every bite. The storm hadn't died down just yet. But it didn't need to.