The Crow’s Bride

Two birds perched harmoniously on a tree. They were the same shape, but their colors were very different: black and white.

The two birds chirped quietly and rubbed their beaks together. At first glance, the pair looked friendly.

Caw. Caw.

Autumn passed and winter came. The black bird cried out. It seemed to be calling to the white bird. Flap. The white bird flew up the tree a little later. The black bird nudged the white bird with its beak. Unlike the previous two seasons, the white bird looked lethargic.

Spring was just around the corner. The black bird cried out.

Caw, caw, caw.

It seemed unusually restless. It flapped its wings wildly as it circled around. The white bird didn’t respond.

Caw, caw.

Caaw. Caaw.

It tried to touch the white bird with its beak. It’s quiet. The black bird squawked.

Caaw. Caaw.

Caw, caw. Caw, caw, caw.

It cried until its throat was hoarse. Over and over again, until the sun rose again.

A day passed, then two, then three, then four.

Crrr. Crrraw.

The black bird let out a throaty cry. It was a sound that could make a mountain shudder.

The sun was rising in the east. The black bird, which had been cawing the whole time, looked down at the white bird in silence. The black bird’s glassy black eyes reflected the white bird’s own. The black bird no longer cried, but instead rubbed its beak against the white bird’s tattered wing.

Still, the white bird didn’t move. It was dead.