What an Odd Little Murder

Ben’Ji sat peacefully in his home, listening to gentle but heavy raindrops pattering against roof tiles and steamed up windows. He was in his library; it was small, only holding a few hundred books. But they were good books, and they were his.

The library held a roaring fire, providing enough heat for Ben’Ji and all of his animals. On his right stood a handy cabinet containing his daily provisions; some bread, cheese, apples, dried meats and a couple of small cakes. Above that a steamy cup of coffee waited next to a large pot of more of the stuff. He felt content.

Nowhere to be, nothing to do but read... I barely need to leave this room.

He reached down with his left hand and rubbed Biggie’s ears. As far as dogs go, he had no pedigree; but he stood taller than a wolf, with dark fur, rounded ears and a tongue that never stopped lolling his amusement. He had looked up at Ben’Ji’s touch with a sleepy gaze, yawned and slumped his head back down. It was safe to say they were the best of friends.

“I know Bigs. It’s a resting day, sorry for waking you.” He gave Biggie one more scratch, as he was awake anyway, then rose.

The rain was running rivulets down the windows towards waiting gutters leading neatly to water collection points around the cottage. Ben’Ji peered out at his neighbors’ homes. Of the two he could see in the current weather, they appeared to be as drenched as his.

To his left lived the Alder family. Rain blurred the neat windows of their stone cottage as rich amber light radiated from within; the burgundy roof tiles black with saturation. To his right lived the Blackfields; their similarly drenched cottage was the smallest in the area, but they were only a young couple and had plenty of room to expand into.

Ben’Ji loved his community; it was small, welcoming and everyone looked out for each other. He especially adored how none of them found his connection with animals odd… even encouraging him. They were a gentle people.

He smiled at his good fortune, to have such a serene life. He turned from the window, content that all seemed well with his immediate neighbors.

His two cats, a tortoise-shell named Happy, and a grey longhair named Muffin had taken his vacated seat. He considered moving them, but they looked so angelic that he dared not wake the demons they actually were.

Biggie had been joined by the fawn; she’d cuddled up against his warmth with her back to him. He seemed happy for the company as one leg hung listlessly over her shoulder.

Ben’Ji had only recently bonded with her and she had revealed her name to be Dapples. She was a loving thing, full of wide eyed hope and playful antics. No one was spared, not Biggie, Ben’Ji, the cats or even the Parrots in their grand open cage in the back corner; a breeding pair who often left for months at a time, but ultimately always returned to Ben’Ji and the comfort of his home.

Thankfully, the rain had lulled Dapples and all her companions into peaceful slumber. Only Ben’Ji remained awake to watch over them all. He knew they were at peace in his company, he could sense it, just like he sensed their names sometimes.

If I could just figure out more about my gift… then perhaps one day I could speak with them too!

Having liberally topped up his waiting cup of coffee with cream and sugar; he took a long sip, relishing the bitter-sweet magic of caffeine pulsing through his veins.

It was as he closed his eyes to linger in the rejuvenating sensation that he heard a tapping coming from one of the windows. He flicked open his eyes and turned his head left, keeping his body still. Ben’Ji couldn’t see anything at all, but knew it had come from that window.

Tap Tap Tap.

His body finally decided to join the moment and it carried him closer. He peered low and squinted, right on the sill sat two crows, miserably wet and staring right at him.

He opened the window carefully and stood back. The bigger one on the left squawked at him menacingly; it stepped in with obvious hesitation, the second one right at his side.

“Oh! There are three of you!” Ben’Ji said, surprised he had missed it. A hatchling was bundled between them, no more than a few days old; his eyes still blue and his beak still a pale shade of pink.

The big one squawked again, as did the smaller one, still staring at him.

Ben’Ji asked in kindly tones. “What do you want of me?”

He opened himself to them and waited for their mental barrage of fuzzy feelings, intentions and wants; chaotic little thoughts he’d have to sift through and hope he understood their meaning.

“He is yours till he decides he is not.” The bigger one said first...The father.

“Till that day… we will be watching.” The mother added.

Their words had reached him clearly; they were not spoken, but they were vividly implied via their minds. Before he could ask them how they did it, they had hopped back onto the exposed sill of the window and flown off into the rain.

Ben’Ji looked down and the single most adorable set of blue eyes pierced his soul. His new charge made a pitiful caw as he was scooped up.

Ben’Ji ran to a shelf and emptied a container holding papers and tat, pulled some straw from his kindling supplies and stuffed it in the box. He placed it under the glow of a tall lamp then placed the delicate chick inside.

He knew the hatchling was safe in any room that contained Biggie and ran to the kitchen. He made a quick porridge with oats, nuts and some meat. When he was satisfied it was all soft and digestible, he took a small amount, and a dish of water and a towel back to the library. The hatchling hadn’t moved, but Biggie had; he had dutifully watched over the little crow in Ben’Ji’s absence.

As he approached the guardian and his ward, he was already blowing on a small amount of porridge between his fingers; then rolled the soft paste into a tiny worm-like shape. Ben’Ji presented his cooking to the petite ball of downy-black feathers. His head wobbled with mild interest; then he cawed and held his beak open wide. Ben’Ji dropped the morsel in his beak and he gulped it down greedily. They remained there, hanging in suspension as though the chick was considering the quality of his new sustenance, then opened his beak wide and screamed for more.

Ben’Ji laughed out loud, surprising even himself. “I am so glad you want to eat!”

He rolled up another porridge worm and fed him once more. It was as he served him his fifth morsel that the parrots came to take a closer look; a sense from them told Ben’Ji that he shouldn’t feed the young thing too much... that it should instead be little but often. He put the porridge aside for later and placed the water before the hatchling. He looked at the dish with a wobble; then held his screaming beak aloft once more.

“Hmmm. You may need some help on this little crow.” He patted his pockets and pulled out a clean handkerchief. “Yes… that will be your temporary name; Little Crow.”

He cut a small strip and dipped it in the dish, then bundled it lightly and held it over the tiny, waiting beak, squeezing the water out gently. It worked, but he didn’t seem to like it much.

He looked at the parrots for help… he felt something vague about soaking the hatchling’s food and decided to try it at the next meal.

He took one of his hot-rocks from the fire, wrapped it in the towel and placed it in a far corner of the box for warmth. Little Crow’s head lolled contentedly and settled onto his shoulders… Ben’Ji’s heart filled with love.

Biggie and the fawn had settled on one side of the box and Ben’Ji pulled a chair up on the other. He took the moment of silence to grab a book detailing the care of young birds from a shelf and sat down at last. The book lay closed in his lap for a moment; his thoughts drifting back to the moment that had started with a Tap Tap Tapping on a window.

“They spoke to me!” He exclaimed, causing Biggies ears to twitch. “I heard them with my mind, but they used words… my words in my language.” He chuckled; his voice a little more contained, and flipped to the first page of the waiting book.

Twenty minutes later, his new companion stirred and voiced his hunger to the entire room.

Within the first month Little Crow had fledged and was finding his wings. He had also started eating on his own, though he still required some hand-feeding. Ben’Ji supplemented his diet with a whole variety of foods; including eggs, bread, all his meat-scraps and plenty of raw fruit and vegetables.

Most of summer they spent in the sunshine; The Blackfields had come for lunch a few times, and on one such afternoon they had decided a picnic in the fresh air with all the animals would be the best way to spend the day.

Little Crow was hopping along a low branch Ben’Ji had placed him on; dancing a skip-hop-flap rhythm along it, cawing loudly each time his wings caught the wind.

Aliana Blackfield was looking up at him with a sweet smile on her young face. “I never considered crows endearing before, but I have to admit, watching him like this is making me reconsider my opinion.”

“They are rather remarkable.” Ben’Ji admitted. Biggie’s head lay on his lap, begging sweetly for scraps. “Little Crow’s proven very clever. I was brushing his feathers the other day. When considered the task complete, I put the brush down to continue reading.” The smile on Ben’Ji’s face incited replies in kind from his audience of two. “He obviously didn’t think so though, so he hopped over to the table, grabbed his brush and hopped back to place it in my hand.”

They were all laughing at the audacity and brilliance of it all.

“That carried on for half an hour!”

Little Crow joined their laughter with a long and improvised Croo.

“Why is it that you still call him Little Crow?” Aliana asked kindly.

“He’s not told me what his name is yet.” He shrugged at his own words. “The parrots are the same. I still call them Lord and Lady… and they rarely respond.” Ben’Ji chortled absently. “I am starting to suspect birds either don’t have names, or they are very private and unwilling to share.”

“You speak as though you have a gift… do you hear their thoughts?” Aliana had raised an eyebrow.

“Well, it is a gift, but it’s not quite like that. I get a sense of their thoughts. Like distant judgement each time they watch me do something idiotic.” Ben’Ji wasn’t sure how else to explain it, and he didn’t want to tell them about Little Crow’s parents actually talking to him.

Danyal Blackfield, a quiet and thoughtful man, ventured his opinion. “There are all sorts of magic in the world. Life Mages are rare, but they can commune with the other species that share our world. I think you perhaps have a small touch of this gift.”

Ben’Ji smiled at the thought, his soul glowing from within. It made him feel bigger somehow. “I would love for that to be true.”

Danyal continued softly. “My mother always used to tell me that Corvids were akin to Dragons…” He appeared thoughtful for a moment. “She also said their memories were long, and never to cross them.” He shrugged and smiled awkwardly, dropping the air of mystery “Keep loving him as you are, and you may yet learn his name.”

“Thank you. “Ben’Ji replied. Rumor had it that the Blackfields were very familiar with Dragons, but he never considered it enough of his business to pry.

Something shifted in his peripheral vision and he turned his head. Little Crow had silently descended the tree to take a seat on Danyal’s knee; without being asked he had started stroking Little Crow’s head as though they had always known each other.

Ben’Ji took great comfort from the scene, and opened another bottle of wine to share between them all.

Three months into life, Little Crow was a solid flyer, eater and drinker; though he still occasionally enjoyed being fed the odd morsel. Despite having many options, he spent most of his time on Ben’Ji’s shoulder. Sometimes he’d fly off for a while, but would always return with gifts; lint, coins and brightly colored leaves were presented with grandiose style on each occasion. 

Ben’Ji had provided plenty of gifts of his own in return but, had to present them as puzzles for Little Crow to solve. Any gifts simply handed to him usually just ended up in his water bowl.

“I think you are old enough for a naming ceremony.” Ben’Ji was looking at his sacred charge; he rattled a long note in reply.

They stepped outside; and a warm autumnal day met them in peace. The horizon was dotted with dark green evergreens contrasting brightly against the yellows, oranges and reds of the surrounding deciduous treeline. It was breath-taking and inviting and he felt it was a perfect day to hear another living being’s name for the first time.

Ben’Ji referred to what he did as a ceremony, but it was anything quite so fancy. He’d sit down with his subject, and dip away into a trance-like state of awareness. He could never tell if he had gotten it right until he did. They had to return the gesture; they had to want to connect as well.

Ben’Ji and Little Crow sat there for hours. The wind rustled dry leaves listlessly between browning grass stems as he hopped about; first collecting them, then clicking in annoyance each time the wind swept them away.

Biggie had joined them, as had Happy, Muffin, the Parrots and the now nearly grown Dapples.

Ben’Ji could feel their minds and identities drifting within his awareness.

Biggie loved being so big, his name fell out of him wherever he went. The cats had been too traumatized to remember their names, and had asked Ben’Ji to choose for them. He’d presented options till he was convinced they were pleased. Dapples had been named by her mother and missed her dearly; when Ben’Ji asked, she had been pleased to share it with him.

As for the Parrots…they just mocked his efforts with affection; they had already mated when they found the sanctuary of his home. They shared more with each other than anyone else.

He spoke aloud without disturbing his trance. “Are birds nameless?”

“No, our names hold meaning… and great power.” It was little Crow!

Ben’Ji was delighted. “How is it that I can hear you so clearly?”

“Crows know how to find and use human language. Biggie and the others can give you an idea, but I can give you my exact thoughts.” The clarity of his words resonated within Ben’Ji’s awareness.

“Can you teach me?” Ben’Ji asked hopefully, feeling a little dismayed by the paltry nature of his gift.

“I cannot. Right now, your gift isn’t strong enough. But it is there, and that’s what counts.”

Ben’Ji sighed sadly, but smiled anyway.

The orange sky turned black as an enormous murder of crows joined them, filling all the branches of the surrounding trees, making them look heavy. Their croaks and guttural coos filled the air with a macabre song.

Two of them came down and Ben’Ji recognized them as Little Crow’s parents.

“It was hard for us… to give our young to you.” The father spoke first. “We nearly didn’t… but our Patron wanted to be sure.”

Ben’Ji had no clue what they were talking about. “Patron?”

The mother replied. “Our Dragon… A Grand Life Dragon… instructed us to judge your worth.”

“My worth? For what?” Ben’Ji’s confusion was only growing. He refused to permit his mind to create any possibilities.

“For the next step in your journey.” Little Crow replied.

His father added. “You have passed… almost as well as a Crow would have.”

Ben’Ji chuckled, feeling calmer but no less confused. “What comes next?”

Little Crow cawed raucously, as though he was laughing at Ben’Ji. “Good things come to those who wait… so wait.” He oozed mystery and mischief at Ben’Ji subconsciously.

“What about your name? May I know that?” Ben’Ji asked; Little Crow froze.

“You may.” The collective Murder watching from above exploded into a cacophony of crow-song. Ben’Ji felt a barrage of mixed emotions.

Little Crow didn’t provide it instantly; he cooed at his parents and tilted his head back to permit them to groom him.

“I am named after the Great Trickster.” He said as they preened his feathers.

Ben’Ji’s eyes widened with recognition.

“I’m Ingo. And we all thank you for your care, Ben’Ji Kari.”

Ben’Ji gasped as the weight of the name bonded Ingo to him… permanently. His spirit overflowed with gratitude at being bestowed such an honor.

He considered the looming mystery; a test passed, a next step and a messenger who likes to play games.

He looked up at Ingo’s family, a murder of hundreds staring back at him, waiting on his next move.

“I suppose you would all enjoy some dried fish and nuts?”

They accepted unanimously with the loudest and most haunting of rasp-songs.

He felt light as he rose, hoping loudly within his consciousness that they would all choose to nest in his trees.