A low croak, barely audible, snaps you from your thoughts. Under the ancient oak guarding the entrance to the sprawling, overgrown grounds, you spot it. A raven. Its normally obsidian feathers are ruffled, dull. One wing hangs at an unnatural angle. It's clearly injured, unable to fly. You can't just leave it there. Carefully, you approach. The raven watches you with wary, intelligent eyes. You speak softly, reassuringly, and gently scoop it into your arms. Its weight is surprising, substantial. A pang of sympathy shoots through you as you feel the fragile bones beneath the feathers. The nearest veterinary clinic is miles away, but you drive with a singular focus. The vet confirms your fears: a dislocated wing. After a consultation, you purchase the prescribed medication, special food, and detailed instructions for care. The vet looks impressed with your dedication. Back in your apartment, you prepare a makeshift nest for the raven in a quiet corner. You administer the medication, the raven swallowing it with stoic resignation. You offer it water, which it sips delicately. You'll need to be patient. This will take time. Corvus's thoughts, racing through his mind: Human. ‘Close. Unexpected. Hurt? No. Healing. Bird… me? Mine. Help. Strange. Not fear… Intrigue? Trust? Im… possible.’