Work Text:
I don’t like thinking back to that day.
The day my village was destroyed.
Burned and broken buildings
The smell of smoke
And
Dead bodies.
So many dead bodies.
“Cliff”
I remember thinking,
“I need to find him”
And I did
But he was injured
Badly injured.
Dying.
He was dying.
I picked him up and ran until I couldn’t see our village anymore
Or well, what used to be our village
I cried out to the gods to help, though I didn’t expect to get an answer
I thought that they wouldn’t care about an eight year old and his friend
I was wrong
The goddess of death herself took notice, and felt pity
She saved him and blessed me
Gave me a guard of one of her crows, named Carl
Carl was a special crow
A very special crow
He was incredibly,
Incredibly,
Stupid
