All of the crows gathered at once on a long church wall.
Their sound twisted into the white-washed hallways, and the people came running from the arched doors to see.
Someone threw a rock, pounding a crow in the neck, killing it.
Its body fell and dotted dark out of the dead grass on the foot of the church.
The group of people clapped, but the other crows did not move.
The people each picked up a rock, and one by one the crows began to fall, they filled the winter gardens with their feathery ink.
Soon all but one crow was left, high on the arm of a white cross that stabbed into the heart of the church.
A young man heaved a stone then, and the rock broke through the cross.
The crow flew off into the air, and the pieces of white wood landed amidst the black sea of crow.