Tale 30- The Boy and the Crow

 The Traveler and Sarafelle walked down the mountain path, finally getting closer to the other side of the familiar pine forest. They approached a giant wooden windmill, spotting a man hauling several bags of grain toward it. The two rushed to help, despite being physically weaker than the retired soldier. Grateful, the man introduced himself, before his gaze drifted upwards as a crow flew over the snowy trees. Raising an eyebrow, the man mumbled to himself. “Reminds me of…” he trailed off, both girls staring at him in confusion. The Traveler sensed that perhaps he had a story to tell, and stepped forward. “Tell me.” she spoke, her voice unusually blunt. The man looked up at her. “It’s not a nice story, young one…” he sighed, “but if you insist…” He took a deep breath and watched the crow land nearby, as if it too was listening, and frowned slightly, telling the tale of ‘The Boy and the Crow’. 

‘Around thirty years ago, before you were born, there was a village far away to the West. A young boy grew up there, living happily with his parents until he was about six. One night, a crow appeared at his window, tapping on the glass as if it wanted to be let in. The boy was curious and opened the window, the little bird being merely a hatchling who had been separated from his parents. The boy took the crow in and named him Roc, the two being the bestest of friends. The boy had many other friends in that village, all of whom spent their days swimming in the river and playing games together. It was idyllic and perfect- after hours with his friends, the boy could run home and play with Roc, and eat dinner with his parents. However, this joy would soon be destroyed. One evening, the boy was just being tucked into bed when there was a knock at the door. Troops had come to raid and pillage the town of their riches, killing families left and right and imprisoning the young boys to train them as child soldiers. The boy tried to hide with his parents’ help, but they were caught, and despite their pleas that they would pay thirty pieces of silver for his freedom, the boy was imprisoned just like the others, forced to watch as his only family burned to death inside their own home. The only other survivor was Roc, who made a promise to stay by the boy’s side until he died. For years, the boy was trained into a competent soldier, first being forced to behead a war prisoner, following that with training the young boy to kill, and then moving on to raids and invasions, before finally landing him on the battlefield. By this time, his kindness had festered, and he’d grown an adoration for blood, becoming a lustful monster so consumed by his own desires that he began regarding others as mere objects for his pleasure. Many fell victim to his sword, leading him to be one of the most respected and feared warlords to ever command the army. Finally, he was given a position as a royal guard for the King, who he became good friends with and often advised. However, a curse fell on the castle and all who lived there, the forest disfiguring the worst offenders who dared disrespect it, including the King and his loyal knight. No longer was his hair the colour of crow feathers, but instead a bright pink, and his body became as hard as his heart, impenetrable by regular weapons and granting him strength of a thousand men, though with the cost that he could only move freely in the dark and would forever remain unfulfilled… or, so the forest hoped. As for the crow, Roc stayed by his side the entire time, and followed the commands of his master, though it is whispered that the crow still sees a shred of good in the warlord somewhere, if one can only know where to look.’

The Traveler tensed up at the ending. Both her and Sara knew the story all too well, though both of them tried to ignore it. Sarafelle found her gaze drawn back toward the castle atop the mountain and sighed, gently taking the Traveler’s hand in her own. “You’ve been so brave so far, and I promise to return at a later date. And when I do, I’ll tell you everything…” she trailed off, now unable to look the Traveler in the eye. Gently squeezing her hand, Sara nodded at her, the Traveler giving a slight wave and watching as she walked off into the snow, before turning back to the retired soldier, who looked down at her. “Be careful out there.” he whispered, the Traveler nodding and both of them turning to stare as the crow flew off. Walking down the mountain and toward the pine forest, the Traveler felt her uneasiness grow now she was alone once more. Was it her fate to also be forever unfulfilled? How long until the desperation and emptiness she felt twisted themselves into something much more malicious? And…would she be able to resist such temptation? She felt her face contort into a sickened grimace. She would never be like him.