Ol' Flint the Crow

Sleepless Nights

Samuel lay half dead on a rough patch of ground built from rocks and gravel. They had spent six long hours trudging through slimy mud roads. With the help of his relentless pestering, he had triumphed over Flint's desire to keep moving.

The bird reluctantly decided to take shelter in a nearby cave that reeked of some unknown filth. Samuel held his nose in discuss at the smell of the repulsive cave. It was nothing like the accommodations Samuel was used to. Although he was only a poor flute player, a dry and comfortable bed was a necessary expense. This cavern was much too small for three which meant the trio had to bunch up in a clammy heap on the unsanitary ground.

Taking another whiff of the musty smelling cave, Samuel frowned while staring angrily at the sleeping bird. Flint huddled in the bartender's soft golden locks. His wings were curled together as a makeshift pillow. The bird seemed to be sleeping comfortably and even snored from time to time.

Samuel gritted his teeth at the sight of the sleeping bird. The minstrel needed lots of rest for tomorrow's grueling journey which, according to Flint, had to make up for their unscheduled night's rest. However, every time the minstrel attempted to find a more comfortable spot on the ground, a jagged piece of stone ripped cut open his baby-soft skin.

"Mmm...." the crow muttered peacefully in his undisturbed slumber.

"Shut up..." Samuel whispered venomously under his breath as he yanked a pointy rock out of his blood stained back.

Enviously glaring at the barmaid's fur blanket she was using as a cushion, the man rung his fists together. Wanting desperately to steal it right from under her bulky form, he growled in frustration and muttered to himself, "You could have brought me something to sleep on. Damn you both!"

The man rolled over in a rage and beat his arm on the uneven terrain. All he could think about was why the hell had he been forced to join up with these two.

Before they stopped for the night, Flint had been giving him harsh looks. The bird would growl every moment the minstrel spoke a word, and after that the crow screeched at him saying he was yapping too much.

Miss Bleak was no better. She would not even pay any attention to what he said. The only time she said anything was when he accidently tripped head first into a puddle of water. "Can't you walk?" the bartender scolded him as one would do with a clumsy child.

I should have stayed in the tavern and waited for that princess, Samuel thought to himself while the others laid down in silence. She might have been a lot more considerate of my plight.

With his eyelids slowly drooping, the flute player exhaled in relief as he began to feel the pleasurably sensations of sleep spiriting him away. His subconscious mind slipped into the sweet realm of dreams where he slept on a cozy mattress. Swaddled in a woolen blanket from head to foot, the minstrel enjoyed the heat from the crackling fire place beside him.

Samuel was jolted back into his miserable reality from the sound of Flint groaning in desperation. Opening his eyes in annoyance, the minstrel saw the crow stirring on top of the bartender's silky head of hair. The bird twitched uncontrollably as if dodging a blow. Watching the crow's involuntary spasms, Samuel froze up as his heart raced in concern.

The minstrel could make out one word from Flint's panic filled shrieks. That word was 'Edvrick'.

Flint's head snapped back as he woke up with a whimper. His eyelid fluttered open as he grasped at his heaving chest. Darting his gaze at Samuel's detestable face, the bird let out a vicious hissed.

"What the hell are you looking at human?!" Flint whispered sharply with a flick of his slithery tongue. He had enunciated the word 'human' making the flute player huddle in fear.