Unhappily Ever After

Chapter 21 - Crowsfoot

Third chapter at 8pm GMT.

"Let's just kill the bloody thing," I heard someone suggest.

"Put it out of its misery," another voice agreed. "It's dead, anyway. Stevie killed the mother, and the father's long gone."

"Stevie did what, now?"

"Killed it, he said."

"What'd he want with a dead crow?"

"To eat it, course. There ain't much food around here."

"Huh. I heard there'd be meals or somat."

"Heard that too, friend, heard that too."

Weaving my way through the crowd, I looked for the owners of the voices. I was on a food run for Kat, and I hadn't managed to find much. The camp was peckish. Not starving, not yet, but the woods had been emptied of small game in the last day, and now the supplies from our stolen van were being rationed for the elderly and the kids. The female in charge had found me an apple, two cans of our baked beans and a pocketful of popcorn kernels. It would have to last until tomorrow evening at the very least.

Kat was allowed a ration because she was a guest and, as the single most valuable person in the camp, we needed her healthy. But Alex would be going hungry, Eira would be going hungry, and I would be going hungry. And there was no denying that I was responsible for the shortage. The rogues hadn't figured that out yet, but it was only a matter of time.

Finally, in the shadow of a tower, I found pair of men leaning over something small and fluffy. One prodded it with a boot and made a dismayed sound.

"You hold it still, I'll —"

I coughed an interruption. Both of the men turned to look at me, their faces wary but unsuspicious.

"You don't have to kill it," I told them, eyeing the fluffball, which was of course a three-week-old crow chick. And not just any chick — I had seen it in its nest not two days past, and I had buried one of its siblings. "I'll take it."

I was greeted with an indignant scowl. "You wanna eat it, is that it? 'Cause if that's it, I'll have the thing for meself."

"Not much meat on it," the other agreed. "But it'd flavour a soup just fine."

"I don't want to eat it," I assured them, smiling now. Even if I had been hungry, I doubted I would have found the heart to kill the thing for a few mouthfuls of flavour.

To prove it, I dug one of the cans from my pocket and tossed it to them. It wasn't my food to give away — true, but I thought Kat might forgive me. Because I figured I had found something she would like more than baked beans.

The rogue looked at the beans in his hand, then back at the chick. "Alright, dude. Your loss."

They retreated towards the courtyard, utterly content with exchanging a scrawny mouthful of meat for actual food. And then it was just me and the chick. Its siblings were nowhere to be seen, and I wondered if they had already fallen prey to hungry mouths.

Carefully, I crouched down and scooped the chick up, tucking it into the warmth of my jacket pocket. His head stuck out, so he wasn't going to suffocate, and he seemed happy enough. I resumed the walk to the back rooms with a triumphant smile stuck on my face. Entertainment for my hostage and one hell of a future scout in one fell swoop.

I needed a name for it. Was it male or female? How was I supposed to tell? I was pretty sure I couldn't do it the old-fashioned way, but I did have another trick up my sleeve. With the utmost delicacy, I reached out with my mind until I felt the faint glow of life. Our species were profoundly different, so communication was limited, but I was still able to recognise hunger and cold when I felt them. There were no clues as to its gender.