Blackfeather Woods this is halloween

Jack sat upon the crooked branch of a dark tree. Its leaves were gone. He stared into the dark forest, his new home, if he wished. Or he could decide something else was better. His feathers were ruffled, his eyes distant as he was in thought. He had thought about joining the clan of crows here, who he had heard were often in wars with the ravens. They could use a warrior like Jack. But on the other hand wing, he would not be nearly as pampered or spoiled or pleased as usual. And he would have to get along with many. In a crowd of ten, he would usually only get along with one or two. Perhaps these were different. Perhaps they were warriors filled with bloodlust as he. But he didn't know for sure. For today, he would not take the risk.