The raven stood motionless, its black eyes scanning the empty horizon. The once-teeming desert battlefield was now eerily silent, the remains of the rotten birds scattered lifelessly across the golden sands. The air was heavy with the memory of their agonized screams, but the raven paid no mind. Instead, it tilted its head, waiting, its sharp gaze fixed on the sky.
It was a challenge, silent but clear.
Would any of the remaining rotten birds dare to descend and face it?
None descended. They had witnessed the massacre. They had seen their kin writhe in torment, fall, and crumble into lifeless husks under the raven's gaze. Whatever foul intelligence drove them seemed to have made its decision
There would be no more attacks. Not today.
Satisfied, the raven glanced around. The desert stretched endlessly, the sky painted with deep hues of orange and purple.
The raven stretched its wings, wincing at the sting of its wounds. Its feathers were still streaked with blood, and its body ached from the relentless pursuit and battle. With a weary sigh, it muttered to itself,
"Ah, I almost forgot… Wasn't I supposed to be looking for somewhere safe to stay?"
It flapped its wings, lifting itself into the air. The wind carried it higher as it began its search for shelter. The raven's sharp eyes scanned the landscape below, looking for anything that might serve as a hiding place for the night.
The first spot it found was a shallow depression in the sand, shielded by a jagged boulder. But it dismissed it quickly.
It was too exposed.
Any passing predator could sniff it out with ease.
The next location was a crumbled ruin, the remnants of what might have once been a tower. Its walls were weathered and full of gaps, offering little protection from monsters that might prowl under cover of darkness.
The raven sighed again, pushing onward.
Minutes turned to an hour as it flew tirelessly, its wings growing heavier with each passing moment.
Finally, it spotted something a lone, dry tree rising crookedly from the sand like a skeletal hand reaching for the heavens.
It wasn't perfect, but it would do. The raven descended, landing lightly on one of its brittle branches.
Perched on the tree, the raven steadied its breath, its chest rising and falling in slow, deliberate rhythms.
The stillness of the evening was almost calming. For a moment, it allowed itself to relax. But then, a low rumble broke the quiet.
Its stomach growled.
The raven blinked and glanced down at itself before muttering, "I'm hungry."
It let the words hang in the air for a moment, as though expecting the universe to provide an answer. But the desert, vast and indifferent, remained silent.
With a shake of its head, the raven stretched its wings again.
The search for shelter can be put on hold for now, but the hunt for food should be settled first.
''Empty stomach is my greatest enemy!"