Northstar Vale Jazz jukebox

A white crow was not a common sight. Most of the dark-feathered things were so far out of the boy’s line of sight that he paid them little attention. To see one so close, so weird in its features, so… ugly. What the hell was wrong with birds? Who made them like that?

Jack gawked at the animal. His eyes were pinned on the pristine pale features, the slender curve of the bird’s back. The only benefit those animals had was that they could fly. The young wolf thought that if he had wings, he’d be an unstoppable force. There could be nothing greater than soaring away from anything life threw at him. He wondered if that was why the birds were always seen fleeing to the skies.

Yo, bird! Caw caw, and all that shit. You talk to wolves? he barked up to the visitor. 


Damn, the crow was ugly with all that crap hanging off his face. Yuck!