The Murder

Over the winter, every morning the girl that lives in the house by the mountain feeds the starving crows with scraps from the table. One Day they don't come down to take the food. Instead they start to fly away. So she follows. Holding up her scraps and whistling. She follows them so far that she can barely see where she came from. Then finally she stops. And they stop too.

There's a rumble. I don't know what landslides sound like. But the rocks and the mud and the trees come loose and tumble down. The house by the mountain is crushed.

They say the crows saved her for her kindness to them each winter.