Unkindness of Ravens

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Gojeck. Your imagination has you spooked. Now, let’s stop off for a pint and a pie at the Hollow Oak,” his friend suggested.

“I don’t feel up to Malak. I’d better get home and tell Anya the bad news so she can start planning for the service,” replied the miner.

“Why, you’ve got yourself dead and buried already. Now stop this mucking about and come with me for a pint. I’m not taking no for an answer,” insisted the forester.

The two friends came to the town center, and three ravens peered down at them from a dead tree.

“One for sorrow, Two for mirth, and Three for a funeral. The surgeon was right. I haven’t long on the earth,” moaned Gojeck.

The two men stood silently, staring at the birds, who glared back at them. “Perhaps it’s someone else they have come to warn,” his friend replied nervously.

“Nye, I’m the Walking Dead. I need to go and tell the wife she’s getting on in years, and preparing for a wake is not an easy task. I’ll stop by in the marrow to bid you farewell, old friend,” the miner mumbled as he hurried off.

“One for sorrow, Two for joy, Three for a girl, Four for a boy, Five for silver, Six for gold, and Seven for a secret never to be told. That’s how I remember it,” said the forester.

Oye, you birds, are you here for my friend, or are you just resting up on your way to another’s funeral?” asked Malak. The birds sat motionless for a minute, and then the largest cawed three times.

“Blast you, ravens. What do they say about a gathering? Oh yeah, an unkindness of ravens suits you well. Now be off before I get some stones, and we have a bird funeral right now,” grumbled Malak.

Sensing they were unwelcome, the raven flew toward Gojeck’s home. “I’ll stop in tomorrow to see that things are still proper,” remarked the forester and trudged home.

As Malak approached his friend’s home, his heart jumped when he saw a pine box leaning against the side of the house. “Sweet Mary, I’m too late,” cried the man.

Malak summoned all his courage and knocked on the door. As it opened, he expected to be greeted by the widow Ayna, but instead, it was Gojeck looking troubled.

“Come in before you catch your death. I have news. Those ravens weren’t meant for me. It was Ayna who should have gotten the warning,” said Gojeck.

“I’m so sorry, my friend. When did Anya pass,” remarked the forester.

Before Gojeck could say a word, a voice boomed from the pantry. “Who says I’m passed over? Why, I got more fire in me than a lass half my age,” laughed the matron.

Gojeck explained that Ayan’s mother had stopped over on her way to see her youngest and had died during the night.

“I’ll be missing her something bad, but the old gal was 180 years old, and that’s enough time for anyone,” said Anya.

“What about your visit yesterday?” questioned Malak.

“Oh, that it was nothing after all. The wife put an herbal in my tea, and that caused the chest pains. I feel right as rain today. Sorry about not going for that pint with you,” said his friend.

“Never mind, we have a wake to attend, and I know you have put away a bottle of Tom McKinnen’s whiskey. That will do nicely as an apology,” said Malak with a wry smile.