Iris flew away from the death scene. The small, sad funeral procession proceeded below. She circled overhead once, and landed in a tree. She was a raven, drawn to death. This most recent child was run over by a car when she tried to retrieve a ball from a road. Her attempt had resulted in immediate death. Iris cocked her head and fixed her gaze on the child's coffin. The world was cruel, a six year old child killed by a careless driver. But she had to admit, she felt almost nothing at the sight. It was how the world worked. The raven felt a tug in it's gut, flew to the human who would soon die, and left when they did. It was a signal, supposed to warn the humans of what was bound to happen. The poor, ignorant humans. Somehow they knew a raven was a symbol of death, but they didn't realize that a raven was always around when someone died. Iris shook her head slightly and took to the wind. She was bound to meet her next victim soon, so she returned to her nest to get some rest before she would encounter another human.

The next day, Iris sighed as something sharp tugged at her stomach. She focused on it and the feeling grew more narrow. Like a compass, it seemed to point in one direction. She opened her eyes and began flying toward the source. She soared on the thermal drafts. Crows and Ravens look almost exactly alike, but crows can't soar, they have to flap their wings, unlike Ravens who can soar like an eagle. Iris lighted down on a branch. In front of her stood a small little house situated in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by farmland and trees. An open window caught her eye. She flapped toward the window and landed on the edge of it. Inside was a little boy, playing with action figures. Amusement glimmered in Iris's eyes, but quickly passed. This was a picture of pure innocence, soon to die. She shook her head. The boy didn't deserve it. A breeze made the curtains shudder. The boy looked up just as Iris flew back into the tree. Dark storm clouds rolled in, eating up the sky and covering the sun in a thick blanket. It carried with it a cool breeze and the smell of rain. Iris already had an idea of what would happen.

Hours passed and the storm clouds had taken over the sky realm. The sky above rumbled like a bad-tempered man. Rain started to fall and Iris saw the boy run outside with his parents, laughing in delight as petite raindrops splashed on his face. And the lightning flashed. The parents beckoned for their son to come in, laughing all the while. He was already in the gravel road, but he obeyed. He splashed in puddles as he made his way up the driveway. Out of nowhere, lightening flashed to the ground, a strike of white, in and out like a wolf, gone in a heartbeat. But the damage was done. On the ground lay the boy, the feeling in Iris's was stomach gone. The parents panicked and called an ambulance that arrived soon after. Everyone knew the child was dead, but they were afraid to say it. Iris took off, expertly navigating the storm. She settled down in her dry nest, almost regretting that the child had died, almost.