Oblations of Offal

Scraps of meat sizzled in the battered pan, dropped in the course of a crude butchering job on a woodland rodent. Perhaps drawn by the aroma, such as it was, a crow came slick as midnight to stalk the ground beside the fire.

Ethrel cocked an eyebrow, “Hullo, birdy. Here to say, um, hullo?”

The bird twitched its head side to side, considering the dirt caked youth with each of its ponderous eyes.

“Mine friend,” with a few heavy handed cuts Ethrel removed the liver, lungs, and heart, “Please convey to the forest spirits mine thanks.” He tossed the organs to the bird, adding a crude flourish at the end, a made up gesture. A few more cuts, “Now these ‘uns, the squiggly bits, the fire gets them. It’s a rule.”

Tiny intestines hissed upon entry into the center of the fire. Its morsels gone, the crow watched hungrily.

“You still hungry, mine friend?”

Quite amused with himself, Ethrel went back to hacking and chopping, until interrupted by a quiet voice whispered in his mind, “Yes, yes I am.

View this story's 3 comments.