Assassin Crow Evolution

Vorin made it to the creek within the meadows in a matter of minutes. It was a water source that every crow was aware of, and they specifically visited it the most because there weren’t that many snakes within the creek. They could drink water there safely.

Sure enough, he saw White Blade shortly after.

Vorin pulled his head back in shock, and muttered, "He actually had the guts to face that monster? I can respect that."

Ten crows, armed with daggers were either floating, or walking behind White Blade, so Vorin exaggerated his bravery a little bit, but this was a unique face-off nonetheless.

Vorin landed close by, and yelled, "White Blade, I have a message from Jimmy!"

"This does not concern your family, including your brother," White Blade said, and smugly lifted his beak, "We have the situation under control."

"No you don’t," Vorin countered, "Don’t make me regret telling you about this crow. But to be sure, let me ask you if you did anything stupid yet. Did you threaten the outlander?"

"Who are you to call me stupid?" White Blade tightened his beak, "I am at least three times smarter than you."

"Outlander?" The large crow, otherwise known as Gundor, parroted.

"So you do understand me?" White Blade raised his voice, "You should answer me when I speak to you, sir, because I’m trying to assess if you’re a threat."

"Oh, I can be a big threat," Gundor yawned, "Which is why I was ignoring you, little egg-head. Now leave me be, before I mount your skull in a branch."

"Mount my skull?" White Blade grunted, "Take a moment to look at your situation. There’s twelve of us, and I promise you, we can stab you at least ten times before you even lift your claw."

Vorin was dumb-founded. In the past, he had admired White Blade, and has always believed that every decision, every step he took in the war was beyond profound, but now, as he watched this situation unfold, he was not so sure anymore.

For that matter, he had to force himself in the conversation, citing, "Don’t count me in on this. I will not attack a crow who hasn’t done anything wrong, just because he looks threatening to you."

"He looked threatening to you as well," White Blade countered, "That’s why you reported his location to me."

"I was wrong," Vorin said, "But if my brother tells you not to bother the crow, is it really the best idea to ignore his advice? He specifically sent me here to help you avoid doing anything stupid."

White Blade did not want to let go of this matter. Perhaps the thorough peace and quiet that he had experienced over these past few weeks was getting to him.

Vorin did not remember this fine, albino crow being this stupid. He could only guess that the death of White Blade’s lover was getting to him.

Whatever the case may be, it no longer mattered a mere five seconds later, as before White Blade could’ve continued to run his mouth, Gundor cut the conversation short.

With a small lift of his claw, White Blade, and the ten crows that backed him up, froze in place. Some of the crows were even frozen up in the air, even though their wings no longer moved.

Vorin was spared, as despite the fact that he was the one who cried wolf, he was amongst the most sensible crows in the murder for once. Gundor noticed this, so he decided to spare his lungs from the crushing grasp of his telekinetic magic.

"Now listen to me, young one," Gundor said, "I can sense it in your voice that you’ve lived a nice, isolated cushy life. You aren’t as smart as you think you are, and to me, you’re merely an ant."

Furthermore, he said, "The meadows have been my home far before you were even born. When I hatched, that city behind you used to be a small village. This is my home as much as it is yours, it’s as simple as that. Now, I respect Jimmy enough to spare you this time, but be warned, if any of you ever bother me again, you’ll be sleeping with the fishes."

White Blade could not answer. He was gasping for air, and so were the other crows that were within Gundor’s telekinetic grasp.

Within a blink, he tossed all eleven of them as far as he could, without hurting them.

About three hundred feet above the ground, the eleven crows started flapping their wings once more. They could move, they were spared, and despite the bravery they tried to portray a moment ago, they still decided to perform a tactical retreat.

They fled, though Vorin was almost sure that White Blade wouldn’t give up on this matter. Even from such a great distance, he could tell that the way the crows flapped their wings as they fled, equated to trouble.

"I’m sorry they bothered you, sir," Vorin bowed lightly, "Thank you for sparing them. I’ll make sure they don’t bother you again, but if they do, please don’t kill them."

"I’m not a very forgiving crow," Gundor said, "I spared them their lives on your brother’s behalf, but I won’t spare them if they bother me again. If you wish to prevent their death, tell that egg-head that I will fold his body five times if I see him again. Perhaps that could knock some sense into him?"

"I’ll make sure to pass your message," He nodded, and then flew away shortly after.

Gundor continued doing what he did before all those crows bothered him. He stared into the sloshing waters of the creek, enjoying its soft, regular melody.

"I missed you, dear creek, I missed every pebble." He sighed, letting out his frustrations, "You look smaller now. Perhaps I’ve been away too long?"

"No matter," He sighed once more, and happiness slowly engulfed him, "Small or big, you are still my home, just as you’re the home of the fish you shelter."