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The Crow
Flying high above the crowd, my wings feel the gentle breeze. I'm soaring higher then all their pathetic attempts at civilization. Their little rock huts are slowly reaching higher. My jet black feathers are starting to fall off as the ice season approaches. I land on a tree next to a small animal-like human. His hair is a mess, his body covered in hair. As he approches I spot in his hand a small rope covered stick. A net! As i spread my wings i find myself trapped at his mercy. Three days have passed and I've been stuck in a cage constently being fed. It's not so bad until i pick up the faint smell of vegtables being boiled. Suddenly the cage I'm in is being carried. Towards the boiling water. As the door opens I try to fly but their's only one way out. Into the pot.
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When the rich wage war its the poor who die.