Arguing With A Raven

The day that the Raven appeared was one the Werewolf long remembered. Like an omen it had come in the midst of a storm.

He himself had taken shelter from the storm in a rundown shack which creaked with every crash of thunder. He was no stranger to hardship but this storm was vicious. With biting winds and torrid rain, there had been no respite.

Then the Raven had appeared. At first the Werewolf had thought nothing of it, but the Raven had just stared, not making a sound. He felt judged and he resented it.

He steeled his nerve and said to the raven, "We might as well get comfortable, this storm isn't going to let up for a while" - with that he ambled over to an armchair near the fire and took a seat.

The raven fluttered over and landed on his arm and cawed softly

"I don't know, with any luck it will blow over soon," he growled back lightly, "this storm is unnaturally bad, did you bring it with you?"

The raven shook its head and made an accusing noise..

"I didn't cause this storm, I wouldn't know how," the Werewolf denied, "what kind of lunatic do you think I am?"

The raven cawed back at him cheekily and his smouldering golden eyes flashed for a minute before he said "yeah that's fair enough, I know that I'm talking to a bird."

The storm continued for some time, and so did their bickering...