November 5th, 2070
6:45 AM

Margaret is, according to her neighbors, a nice old woman.

A soft, old raven who had gotten the deed for the old bakery and brought it up to speed with the rest of the block. Something she’s proud of as she sweeps the freshly re-buffed floors in the early morning. Margaret was kind to her neighbors; opening her doors to those who needed it for a night or two, offering a helping hand where she could, and sometimes even strong-arming people into not paying for their orders from her.

To her neighbors, she is affectionately referred to as Old Hen Maggie.

A few years in, she had found the emptiness of her home too much, too quiet for her liking. So, she had adopted, taking in a crow egg to raise herself, naming the resulting hatchling Russel. She raised him to be kind and thoughtful. In his youth, the crow had done everything he could to assist where possible. In her opinion, Margaret's son turned out to be a fine young man.

As he assists her in her morning preparations, working away in the kitchen, Russel calls her Mom.

Friends from times gone by still visit Margaret, even if for nothing more than a brief word. Some look just as old as she feels some days, and some still sport their youthful spark. One such, an older wolf, scarred and battered, comes in with a handful of letters—he'd gotten them for the old raven as he came in, he explains, handing the bunch over. Margaret just leans against her broom and smiles, rifling through the letters.

To the wolf, and many other old friends, the raven is simply Maggie.

As Margaret settles in, the old wolf heads into the back to say hello to Russel while he's visiting. The dining area falls mostly to quiet again while Margaret looks through the mail.

At the bottom of the stack is a folded letter made of old, yellowed paper, almost like parchment. There's no return address written on it, just the bakery's address. After turning it over a few times to inspect it, Margaret unfolds the letter.

She almost drops it in shock.

Written in old Futhark runes is a name she wished to be forgotten.

The message is simple.

‘I humbly request you return,’ it says. ‘Your work was second to none. It may be required again.’

A seemingly innocent request, simply signed by O.

All at once, buried memories return to the surface of the old raven’s mind.

Battlefield after battlefield over countless years.

Criss-crossing wounds, most too many for even her healing to help.

Unending fields of broken bodies and half-tethered souls.

Each and every one of them reaching for her, crying out for–

“Eir?”

A gentle hand on her shoulder. A soft voice—almost too soft to hear—from beside her. The old and aged wolf looking down at her with worry in his eyes. His gaze drifts over the letter and his features harden into disgusted understanding.

“Leave it,” the raven says quietly. Without a hint of remorse, she tears the letter into shreds, letting the pieces fall to the floor before she sweeps them into her dustbin.

Alongside the rest of the trash overstaying its welcome in her bakery.

The wolf nods solemnly, giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze as he leaves, sparing one last glance over his shoulder.

From the raven’s other side, Russel approaches, gently hugging his mother. “Is… everything alright?” he asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Are you alright?”

The raven glances at him and sighs, wrapping one feathery arm around him in return.

“I’m alright,” Margaret answers, giving her son a gentle smile.

Together, mother and son return to their work, looking forward to a day of baked goods, and nothing more.

_{Written December 10, 2022}