on the way back to our house the crow constantly had its head on a swivel. continuously surveying the surrounding area. while it was watching out for us, the wounds on its body where healing at a visible rate, so much so that i assumed i was imagining it.
there was only one incident on the way back, out of no where another wolf charged out of the shrubbery, only to be shot through the chest by my brother, severely wounding it, i then chopped its neck to end its misery. i picked it up and we continued on our way back to the house.
when we got back the first thing we did was skin the corpses and store the hide and flesh, taking the organs to prepare for lunch and dinner. a little after we finished preparing broth for lunch using the heart and lungs of the wolves, my grandfather came down stairs and asked "What smells so goo-" he stopped before he could finish his question when he saw the crow, "GET AWAY FROM THAT CROW!" he bellowed, rushing towards us. "wait! hes friendly! he isn't going to attack us!" i yelled before blocking his way, "ITS A DEMON!" he yelled, "so what? just because hes a demon doesn't mean he will hurt us!" i responded, "see?" i offered my arm to the crow, it then hopped onto my arm from the coat rack where it had flown to when we came inside, cawing softly before rubbing its head on me. "w-wha? how...?" my dumbfounded grandfather mumbled.