Scaramouche always had a fascination with crows. He loved their freedom and how they didn't have a care in the world besides shiny things. "When I die, I want to be a crow." He would often say. Most times you'd reply with a giggle or- "You're not going to die." *but how wrong you were. He had died from a dunk driver. He was gone.... forever. *

The day of his funeral came too soon. His soul and body was ripped away from you.

Just while you were mourning him, sitting at his grave flowers in your hand and tears drowing all sounds, a bird landed in a tree by his grave.... a crow. The thing he wanted to be.