Ol' Flint the Crow

Bleak Morning

The sun peaked over the orange and yellow horizon to greet Samuel as he, neck deep in a small river, washed the dirt off of him. A large layer of mud was caked over his pungent smelling skin. He was shivering from the cold water, but thankfully the warm morning light indicated that it was going to be a hot day. The minstrel's wet clothes hug on a conveniently placed tree branch, which was blowing peacefully in the wind. Pleasantly bobbing in the cool water, Samuel eased himself against the river bank and played at sweet song on his flute. Soothing notes hovered delicately around the trees and rocks making the melody bounce back to the flute player, engulfed in its harmonic magnificence.

As he neared the finally chorus, Samuel noticed Bleak trampling among the grass. Making quite a ruckus, she grabbed hold of a tree branch which was suspended in front of her. Snapping the thick wooden stick from its trunk, the bartender swung it wildly through the air with a sharp swoosh.

Samuel, intimidated and embarrassed by Bleak sudden appearance, reached for a nearby lily pad to conceal his more confidential areas. While he turned a dark shade of red, the barmaid clamped both hands on either end of the branch as her arm muscles flexed.

Bleak?!" Samuel screeched. With his wobbling fingers unable to keep a firm hold on the instrument, the minstrel's flute plummeted into the murky river depths. Frantically fumbling among the waves, the minstrel breathed a sigh in relief once he reclaimed the musical instrument. He then lifted up his gaze to see the scowling woman towering over him.

Contempt lining in her round face, she spoke in a deep and guttural voice. "You were having a late-night chat with Flint, aye?"

"Y-yes ma'am," the minstrel said as he clenched his soggy instrument.

Squatting down to eye level, Bleak peered deep into Samuel's eyes looking for a reason to strike him down with the branch in her clenched hands. Restricting her more violent emotions from coming loose, Bleak roughly poke at the man's beating chest with the tip of the branch.

"Now listen to me minstrel! I don't trust you. The fact that Flint feels personally responsible for your fate is the only reason I bother to have you tag along with us. If I had my way I would just-" Pulling her clenched fist together in a fierce motion, the bartender snapped the tree limb into splinters.

Allowing the wood pieces to slip form her hands as emphasis, she began a new sentence, "You remind me too much of that damn bard who ruined Flint's life. That song destroyed him! It brought back all the regrets he wanted so very much to forget. There are many horrible things floating in his head that keeps him up at night... that eats away at him! The sad tales in that children's rhyme does not compare to what really has happened to him. Why do you want to know so much about Flint? What are you planning to do with that information?! Tell me right now our I'll-"

Thrusting her arm at the minstrel's delicate neck, she was prepared to do anything to keep her friend safe. Samuel waddled franticly away from the ferocious woman, all while covering himself with the slippery lily pad.

In tremendous distress, the flute player pleaded, "I'm not your enemy Bleak! All I want is to learn more about him. He was nothing more than a fictional character yesterday! His life interest me... I do not know what Galahad's motives were when he wrote the song, but every line is filled with compassion and respect. He may have hurt Flint but I'm sure the bard did write it with the best intentions." He paused for a breath. "And as for me, I do not want to hurt your friend. For that matter, neither you! Please Miss Bleak! Listen to reason!"

Bleak hesitated for a moment but did not take her piercing eyes off Samuel. The river water rumbled away, taking the bartender's anger along with it. Shaking her head in annoyance, she stood up in a haughty stance while her tense arms dangling by her sides. She inhaled the morning air and looked back towards the cave where her dear friend peacefully slept.

Speaking to Samuel, she hissed, "If you hurt him- intentionally or not, I will kill you! I will take you by the neck and break it in half! Don't toy with me minstrel!!"

Samuel was going to say something but was halted by a cloud of smoke appearing in the distance. Bleak noticed it too by the sudden change of light that transformed into a disgusting orange haze. Their noses curled at the smell of burning ashes being blown by.

The minstrel looked at the bartender for guidance. However, she was staring in the distance to perplexed and worried to say a word. Trees and hills blocked their view hindering her from knowing what was on fire, but it was coming from the direction of the town.

Hearing a faint rustling noise coming from a bush, Samuel kicked his bare leg in fear. His panic caused a big splash of river water to strike Bleak square in the face. The bartender growled at the clumsy flute player, and she was about to attack him in retaliation until she saw Flint leaping out of the hedge, dragging all of their supplies. Using his tiny wing, the one-eyed bird struggled with his heavy load as he pulled the bags towards his allies. The nobles but was lodged in his arm pit and was almost slipping out of it. His eye's slanted in anger, Flint squawked at them.

"Get your naked ass out of the water Mr. Samuel!" the crow yelled at him in distain. "We're leaving! Right NOW!!!"

"What- what is going on Flint?" Miss Bleak said as she kept her gaze towards the foreboding smoke clouds behind the bird.

Flint's beak fell as he pleaded with his friend. "Please Miss Bleak, we have to leave!"

Shaking her head in defiance, the bartender ran past her friend, but not before snatching her crossbow, and searched for a better vantage point. Disappeared into the dense foliage now covered in soot, Samuel could tell that she was on the verge of tears.

Knowing she would find only anguish at the sight, Flint cursed as he watched her leave. The bird shot a depressing glace at Samuel and weakly beckoned him to dress. "Hurry up Mr. Samuel!"

Hastily putting on his pants, the minstrel feebly asked, " Is she going to be alright? What will she find?"

Flint paused for a moment and handed the noble's journal with all the answers. After buttoning up his shirt, the minstrel accepted the book. He flipped through the pages and saw a new entry. The letters written seemed to have been scribbled in anger. The T's were haphazardly scrawled on the thin paper sheet without even conjoining properly into the next letter.

It read:

~

A brilliant act Flint! Might I congratulate you on your stupendous trickery? Can you see the fire from where you scurried off to? I hope you feel the scorching flames coursing through your wings. Don't worry, I'm on my way little birdie. I will find you and there is no one who will hider me from plucking ever feather from your flesh. You will pay for your betrayal against me and the royal family. You will suffer tremendous anguish at my hand. Anywhere you go, I will hunt for you. Once I regain my families power back, I will hang your wings on the top of my throne as a visual example to all traitors. So run- run away my little birdie. The hunt will only be sweeter. I'm coming for you my sweet pet!

~

After Samuel lowered the book, the crow explained, "Tabitha burnt Miss Bleak's Bar to Hell. I brought this upon her. Come Mr. Samuel, we must go if we are to reach Planker Creek in time."

"What about Bleak?" the minstrel asked as he reluctantly strapped on his heavy bag. "I'm worried she may do something drastic!"

"She'll be alright," Flint said as he gathered his own supplies. "She's stubborn like me, but she's not stupid. When her head clears she'll catch up. Let's go!"

Not giving the flute player a chance to argue, the stubborn bird carefully leaned his friend's bag on a smooth rock for her to find. Letting his feathers linger on the sack, Flint mouthed a few inaudible words which Samuel read as 'I'm sorry'. Plucking one of his feathers and positioning the quill's tip to mark their direction, the crow led the way in silence. Every so often, Flint would look back to check for his friend.