I wait and stared a the magnificent sky. Memories flood back to me in waves of red.
~
*Squawk!* *Squawk!* My parents cried.
On our gathering tree, my parents spoke about the filly Octavia to the flock, describing her size, shade, contours, what her usual whereabouts are, and other necessary details to connive with. The goal of our discussion was focused on one thing and one thing only.
Revenge.
Oc path lied from elementary school from the north, through the park where she smacked me with the case of the instrument, and out to the general horned-pony/Unicorn place. We apted to avoid these pony's path, but we wouldn't back down from an Equine who attack a defenseless crow such as myself, we had a vendetta to settle.
To us, the narcisist we are, such a plan was a no-brainer, a piece of cake. The stage was set for our ambush.
At the beginning of the weekday, where the Foals go to school, we gathered on the ground of the park killing time with eating worms. The sun rose, a few Equines passed, the designated time came a few moments prior to what we assumed was an act of aggression, and all of us were watching from among the trees, waiting for the target.
Octavia 'intruded' the park, heaving her backpack and her cello in her case, the latter the 'weapon of choice'. She walked across the grass, and some of us responded in frustrated Caws and Squawks. The target walked with nothing but her 'cowardly' friend who I never figured out who, he's the one who abandoned her the other day, not even worth talking about.
The ambush had begun.
The first wave of us swooped down and smacked the top of her head, attempting to irritate her as much as possible. The second wave landed on the ground and surrounded her, trapping her to show her we mean business, making her feel hopeless. The third wave? We were all the third wave. We pecked, scratched, and bombarded ourselves at the vulnerable foal. She tried to run away, but only manage to scream in terror. She dropped her cello and bolted out of the swarm, stepping. To us, seeing her suffer and crying out for help made us feel good inside, like eating sweet insects. Scaring away her helpless friend was a bonus.
We all left shortly thereafter because we knew that Ponies would retaliate if we do it over and over again, so we simply avoid the next time. Good thing too, Octavia was escorted by an adult Unicorn on the way back with the addition of her anonymous friend.
I do not know of other Murders, but mine picks on every species they can, from fat stupid birds like Seagles to retarded Chickadees and even the Equines. Why do we call them Equines? For us crows, Equines include all three pony races, Griffons, Donkeys, buffalo, etc. Anything that resembled a pony, speak their language, or somewhere in that ballpark, we think them as one specimen but with different descriptions.
And something about that didn’t feel right.
In retrospect, it was a silly life. We were all nothing but Troll soldiers having sadistic fun, which to serve a higher purpose of distracting from the easygoing life our intelligence gifted us with, albeit with our obnoxious nature. My intelligence was greater than the others, hence the Shraudenfeude only appease my boredom yet not my deep sorrow. I knew if trolling and acting edgy was what my Murder sought as peak happiness, my eudaimonia did not align with their territorial goals. Growing up, I realized from my experience and others that Equines were both the most Dominant and the smartest, thereby making my brethren nothing but dolts in comparison. The natural born intelligence of such a species deserved my attention.
I lead a few crows into the city pretentiously for scavenging, an excuse to study Equine culture. I watched as they converse, exchange goods, consummate their vegetarian diet, et cetera. I've already deciphered some simple languages of a few bird species, but the Pony language had been always alluding me. I could remember the sounds and some of the verbal patterns but only memorized a few words from context. On that day forward, I decided to dedicate the rest of my life to their culture.
I ventured on a journey that changed my perception of the world, from marketplaces to schools; I learn conversations at unprecedented speeds along with reading. I was enamored in their naive lifestyle and how it's so different---
~
“Ca-Caw, Sqawkaw. Squawky.” Translation: What are your orders, my liege?”
I brake out of my stupor to recognize my sister’s presence, “cah, ca-awaw.”: Hold on, sister Cawaw.
"Caw, cah." She pointed a beak over to the fields: I'll wait over there. She flew over to Octavia's front lawn to eat worms.
My focus snaps back to Octavia, she is recovering in the hospital from her wounds. I feel terrible, the perpetrator's dead and it wasn't in my claws. I still feel her pain all the way from here, her eyes are unhealable in a way that no amount of science or Unicorn magic could cure. Our relationship was a far cry from before, but after coping with the emotionally charged incident and learning more about her kind.
"CAW!" I flew towards the horizon, prompting sister Cawaw to follow.
It took a fair amount of time to come in terms with my dark emotions, but I eventually set aside my hatred of Octavia, thereby Equines, and found peace within. Although I didn't give myself a chance to deal with these emotions, not even sharing it, those emotions changed direction to more healthy ways. I now know Octavia as I spend much time with her, she's a curious, capable, intelligent, loyal, generous, kind, and self-sacrificing pony whose recklessness puts herself in unfortunate circumstances.
I could do nothing but relate, but that's about to change as I develop my life.