The detestable sun hung high, scorching, much to Poe’s annoyance. The sulking raven trudged through the forest, ignoring the chatterboxes they passed. They found a secluded spot beneath a tree, away from the crowd, and sank into the cold grass. After nestling between the roots, Poe opened a book and immersed themself in its pages. This moment of respite got cut short when a critter walked up to them.

The bird lowered their book, “May I help you?” They addressed the interrupter with a bitter tone, their feathers already ruffling.