The woman looked down at the ruins for a long time,
as the stone crooned its endless song.
‘The journeys end,’ she thought…
‘but not over.’
And she settled down in the rough grass to wait.
* * * *
The thief was on his feet and hobbling along the path
as fast as he could when the ravens came.
They passed overhead like a swift moving thundercloud,
and he felt, rather than heard, the cruel triumphant laughter filling the forest.
And he bent himself against the stinging of a rising wind and started to run.
* * * *
The urchin watched as the ravens blanketed the ruined cottage roof.
He pulled back deeper into the woods and filled his hands with earth
and started to sing quietly,
like the hum of a thousand beehives.
And his eyes glowed green and the clouds slowed in their stately sky skimming
and the forest listened…