“Oh my, my, what of the raven? Is it you?” I am asked.
“No. I am quite simply not into carrion,” is my reply.
“What are you in to?”
“Being the last bird to leave before the storm; then, being the first to return.”
“Yes, which is also a Phœnix.”
“A Phœnix appears to rebirth itself from a flame’s ashes; but, it is illusion. Everyone fled the mælstorm. I never died, you left; and, upon your return, you assumed me to be reborn.”
“The truth is then?”
“I neither left nor died. I simply survived.”
Say hello just as you once waved goodbye.