In the late afternoon, a crow flew overhead, making its presence known with noisy squawks. The whole caravan stiffened just seeing it. There was an unsightly presence, something that served to unsettle. The crow was Ingolsol's creature, after all. The Dark God of Despair. The Yarmdon knew to fear him, and to respect him.
"…Doesn't look like no ordinary crow to me," Northy sniffed. "That there's a tame bird, by human hand, I'd say."
The way it circled overhead, and swooped down to perch on the tops of a wagon, before taking flight again, certainly fed Northy's idea of that tameness.
"He isn't wrong," Vale put in. "That there's a messenger bird. They're a scroll attached to its leg. We should shoot it down, before it gets into the hands of our enemies."
"Ha! Our enemies? Crows ain't stupid, woman. If it's here with a message, then the message is for us," Silverfish said.
