People had always hated him and his kin. Thieves. Scavengers. Ill omen. Harbingers of death. Wherever they tried to settle, even little children would throw stones at them.

He was used to it. It didn't even come as a surprise when a particularly well-aimed stone hit him and caused him to fall to the ground. They'd kill him. They never showed any mercy even to the children, so why would they spare him?

But then warm hands picked him up and a man cradled him protectively to his chest.

~*~*~

It had taken over a year for Bran to track down the man who had protected him and nursed him back to health. He was a traveling seller of herbs and spices, spending the chilly autumn months wandering all over the country with his wares on his back. His name was Jonah.

Without thinking, Bran knocked on the door of his home. It was cold, and heavy snow was falling from the sky. It quickly blanketed his black hair and the feather cloak that covered his back and shoulders.

The door opened, and his heart almost skipped a beat at seeing the familiar, kind face again. "Um...Excuse me...I...I wanted to thank you for helping me."

There was no recognition in Jonah's eyes at all. But that was alright. He must have helped countless people.

Then he smiled. "Please come inside. Nobody should be out in this weather."

Bran nodded with a faint smile and followed him into the small house. There was one large, open room with a cooking pit in the middle of the wooden floor and a little alcove with a bed on the side.

He patiently waited while Jonah poked the glowing coals to life, filled a teapot with water from a large bucket and placed it to hang above the fire.

"What's your name?" Jonah asked.

"Bran," he replied quietly. He felt a little awkward. He could have just watched this man for days. He had not really thought what to say to him.

The man smiled again. "It's nice to meet you, Bran."

"Um...I wanted to repay you somehow." He hesitantly placed the cloth bundle containing all his treasures on the floor between them and unwrapped it. He especially liked the silver earring himself, but maybe Jonah would prefer the colorful glass pebble or the polished brass button instead. Or something else. He was a little proud of his collection. It was better than anything his family or friends had. "Please take whichever you like. They're probably not much for you, but it's all I have. I'd give you a bride if I could, but none of my sisters like your people very much, so..."

Jonah took his hand. "Do you like me?"

"Of course!" he exclaimed, surprised at the strange question. "I...like you very much..."

This man had saved his life and been so kind to him. How could he not like him?

"Then would you stay with me?"

~*~*~

Seasons changed, and Bran did stay with Jonah. He learned to take care of the house and the herb garden. He'd even accompany him on his travels to towns that had treated him like trash and this time everyone was so nice to him!

Yet, his own people didn't like him anymore. Their screams would drown his ears wherever they went. Traitor. Deceiver. Why side with them? That man would only throw him away once he learned the truth.

Then, one winter day Jonah fell ill. Very ill.

"Tell me what to do," Bran pleaded, clutching his hand desperately. His skin was so cold despite the heavy blanket covering him. "How do I cure you? What herbs do I use? I can't lose you!"

Jonah smiled weakly. "I'm sorry..."

"Tell me what to do!" Tears streamed down his cheeks. How could Jonah just apologize like that?! He had to get better. He had to!

"It's an old illness I've had for a long time. I was hoping it would not come back." He drew a pained breath. "There's an apothecary in the city...But I don't have that kind of money."

Money...None of his treasures were worth much money. But there was one item that might be. Many people had admired his feather cloak during their travels. If he sold that...

He squeezed Jonah's hand. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Please hold on until then."

He was certain that Jonah was yelling after him not to go, but he didn't listen. He just grabbed his cloak and ran outside, taking flight as soon as the door closed behind him.

The old woman running the apothecary knew Jonah's illness and mixed the medicine to suppress it in exchange for his cloak. Now he only needed to return home in time.

He ran as fast as he could, through the snow and the wind biting at his skin. His feet blistered and his hands and knees ached every time he slipped and fell. Still, there was only one thought echoing in his head, driving him on. Please don't let it be too late.

~*~*~

Bran woke to someone brushing their hand through his hair. Slowly he opened his eyes and raised his head from where it was resting on his arms. His mind felt disoriented, his memory clouded.

The recollections of the past few days came back in a rush as he saw Jonah's smiling face. Stumbling back to the house ready to collapse, but still tending to the man he loved more than anything as much as he could. He gingerly took his hand. It was warm.

"Do you regret it?" Jonah asked quietly.

He didn't understand. "You're alive. Why would I regret anything?"

"Without your wings, you can no longer go back to your own. I didn't want to take that from you."

Bran almost choked on the words. "You knew?"

Jonah framed his face with one hand and brushed his cheek with his thumb. "How could I forget that beautiful black crow fighting so fiercely to live?"

He had been afraid to ask. Would you still love me if you knew I'm not human?

Now he knew the answer.