Winged Witness — A Gentle Exchange

She sits at the tavern steps with the book closed at her side, her wings folded softly behind her. One gloved hand rests in her lap, while the other reaches toward the crow — not commanding, not coaxing, simply offering.

The bird leans forward as if answering something unspoken between them.

There is no performance in the gesture — no miracle, no blessing. Only a quiet familiarity, the kind that forms when two lives have crossed the same dark thresholds and recognize one another on the way back.

The moment is tender without softness, solemn without sorrow.

This piece belongs to The Winged Witnesses, a series that dwells in the shared space between devotion, endurance, and the small mercies we grant each other when words no longer suffice.