Ficlet: Messenger

[meridian_rose]

Each morning the crow comes and perches on my windowsill. I bring him a choice morsel to eat; a small piece of bread, a thumb sized scrap of cake, a sliver of meat. He takes the treat as gently as his beak allows, and gobbles whatever I give him, glossy head bobbing up and down.

"What is the news from the forest?" I ask. He tells me, and while his caw is merely a corvid's call to most, I am able to hear the meaning beyond it, to see what he has seen and know what he knows.

"Thank you," I tell him. He nods, and flies away. Cats are more traditional familiars, but crows can travel great distances on their powerful wings.