Literature
TempShrt #38: The Claw That Pleads Nevermore
Within the lands, writhe with shadows and dread, lie a village of damp wooden houses the size of five-story buildings. Halls of banquets, communions, harbingers, and labor are occupied by those who are used to living in the light and those used to living in the shadow.
In days of old, both sides traversed different roads that led them to becoming one harmonious group of protector and provider. The Ravenclaw were and still are creatures born from the darkness of humanity. They only knew one thing that all beasts instinctively follow: the way of survival.
To them, the unwary deer in the woods, the bird flapping its wings in the golden-blue, inviting sky, and the ever-evolving mind and body of the human body and spirit were but prey. The Ravenclaw never, in its ancient moments, ever considered the blood on its claws, the shadow it casts when it hunts, the very void that would have been where its heart would reside, nor the possibility of kinship upon similar visage that they, their even
