The crow sat on the sill, casting a narrow shadow down onto the pale bedroom carpet below. Its beady eyes flickered in the moonlight, watching the small child that nestled warmly in the satin crib.

The mother lay nearby, eyes closed tightly in exhaustion. The quilt was spotted with the leafy pattern of the trees outside, the contrast between light and dark swirling into the night.

It flapped its wings once, then twice and took off from the painted ledge. A cloak of dread settled over the home, the baby’s final cry fell into the night, matched by the unrelenting crow’s call.