On Wings Anew

Crow woke, as if from dreaming, and with a start, lept into the air, midnight wings in sharp contrast to the bright sky around her.
There was a job to do.
A job neglected.

Of the emerald knight... Silence.
So further on she went.

Crow dropped lightly to the ground and appeared as a dog. Lopeing off, she struck a course onwards to the halls of the dark knight. The ramparts stood empty, the gate thrown open to thrash in the wind. Dog padded through the empty courtyards, but of the former champion, there was little sign.

On she ran to the throne of the Prince of Man, whom she found to be pitched in a battle with object disgust. His crown clenched tightly in one fist, he shook it at the heavens, bellowing his rage and frustration...
Once again, into the shape of crow, she took her leave of the chains of earth.

Last she looked in on the Archer.
He, she found, gazing into the void, as if dazed and mesmerised by it's seductive charms. One hand out to touch upon it's surface, one arm up as if to defend from it's infection.

In the heavy autumn air, Crow made her way back to the mountian. She sought her perch, from which to gaze out upon things, and waited. From behind her, a light wind rose up...

Change... Change must be on these winds, she thought.

It must, or I fear us lost...

- K.