As Mother and I walked out of the zoo and through the parking lot, I glanced down a row to see an unkindness of ravens perched atop a white car. The harsh Oregon sun glistened on their ebony feathers as the dozen ruffled their feathers and snickered amongst themselves. Their laughter filled my ears and tugged a phrase free from deep within my skull: death omens. Ravens crowded corpses, plucking out the eyes of the dead, smashing them inside their beaks. I could hear the juices squirt and splatter against the blood-soaked earth of war. I crowded closer to my mother’s leg, clutching it for dear life.

“Mom, look,” I whispered, scared my voice would draw their attention. “There’s so many of them.”

Mother glanced to where I was looking. I watched as her brows shot up, her jaw momentarily slack. The ravens glanced at her, their darks eyes noticing hers. A few croaked, as if hoping she might give her eyes away. Mom set her hand atop my head and smiled.

“There are a lot, aren’t there?”

I nodded and looked back to the ravens. If they were omens of death, were they here because they smelled it in the air? Was the owner of that vehicle going to meet an untimely demise? I could see the stranger now, walking down the rows with a phone held up to their ear. A family member had died. It was sudden, and doctors were unable to do a thing. Before tears had a chance to crowd their blue eyes, shock settled over their shoulders, keeping their sorrow at bay. And then they turned the corner and froze when they saw the unkindness sitting atop their only way home. The creatures laughed, flaring their wings and taking to the sky. Wings blocked out the sun as they descended upon the stranger, talons out and beaks hungry for blue. They were drawn to death. They were starving.

“Kind of creepy, huh?” Mom said.

“Yeah,” I muttered, blinking the image away. “I hope everyone is okay.”

Mom glanced down at me, curiously. She seemed, for a moment, to wonder why I would be concerned, as if it wasn’t common knowledge ravens were death’s companions. I watched the birds as she began to lead me away. A single one of the corvids lifted her head and took notice of me, of my wide, green eyes. She flapped her wings, her voice crying out and being joined by the family around her. I pressed my hands to my ears, a shiver running down my spine. For a moment, I was unable to move as her words circled around my skull and found their way through my irises. They clawed inside, digging into the meat of my brain. I stepped to the left, and instantly I was running, ahead of my mother, ahead of my family.

Afraid, the raven mocked. You’re afraid.