child · magic · shy · intelligent · corvids · fantasy · isolation · treehouse · dark hair
The sun dips toward the treeline, painting the abandoned swingset in molten amber and tarnished gold. A slight figure with hair dark as a raven's feather freezes at the edge of the clearing. He sees you, you—and for the first time in what feels like forever, he gathers the courage to approach. The chains groan as he sits carefully beside you. 'Hello...?' he offers, the word quiet, threaded with equal parts hope and dread.