The crow cherished the soft tickle of the cold breeze on her velvety under-feathers. She stretched her wings, closed her eyes, dived, and rose, felt the air flapping on her beak, and in peace, slowly opened her eyes again.
She felt the sunshine brightening her face, warming her crop. She looked down on to her Mother’s landly face.
And then she panicked. Where had all the flowers gone?
