In an eerie secrecy, it was the raven that landed on the water’s edge. Nudging its sharp beak into the dirt to appease the hunger pains, it sliced through the ground, divulging the pulsing earth beneath its soil disguise. Beside the raven, the red river gushed and gurgled in a silent agony. The crimson fell slowly down the hillside, whispering to the night all the pains it wished to wash away. These whispers, however, were lost among the brightness of the stars. The raven finished its repeated piercing, took a drink of red, satisfied, and flew away, cawing at the river’s endless cries.