Day to Day

Most days were fine.

He'd find himself waking alone in the predawn hours and having some time to himself to prepare for the day. He did what he could to stay in the good graces of the herd, and offered himself freely to whoever needed him. Some days he took a guard rotation, others he helped herbalists scrounge up seedlings, and particularly gruesome days involved procuring reagents for practitioners of black magic. But he did what he could to make himself useful.

He'd come to Blackwood because he had nowhere else to go. The danger and intrigue of his former gypsy lifestyle had lost its allure nearly two years ago, and the prospect of taking it up again left a bad taste in Corvus' mouth. So he'd come crawling back to the only semblance of family he had, and did his best to stay beneath the notice of anybody important. He was just Corvus, the friendly though reclusive mudblood.

No job was too big or small for him, and he found himself with some errand to do almost daily. Today it was helping an elderly doe find something to eat.

"How are your children?" he asked as he hacked at the icy crust of snow, searching for bites of grass for the old illusionist.

She smiled and shrugged her bony shoulders. She didn't talk much. But Corvus did, nervous about letting any empty space hang between them. Empty space was dangerous. Memories had a habit of seeping in if he didn't fill the void with inane chatter. "I saw Rort the other day. He's one of yours, right? Right. He had just come back from a border patrol. I think there are a few does that are sweet on him."

The old lady nodded happily before dipping her head to gum at the ration of stiff grass Corvus had uncovered. The black stag smiled before moving off a few yards to begin digging in another spot. The small snowy glade they occupied was filled with holes and scrapes where Corvus had already searched, but he was happy to work until the old lady had her fill.

"Rort's a good bull." Corvus continued cheerfully as he worked, "I think he could even be General in a few yea--"

He trailed off, his words forgotten. At his feet sprouted the tiny remnant of a pale flower, long ago encrusted in ice.

It was the color of her eyes.

Heaving a deep, shaky breath, Corvus turned to his elderly ward. "I-I found some more grass over here, ma'am." he managed a ghost of a smile.

Most days were fine. Today would not be one of those days.