Josiah sat on the porch of the church and let his eyes drift over the dark town. He was aware of the cold but his heavy poncho kept the intruder away from his bones. His exhalations created little temporary clouds in the air as he sat there. The night hung like a frozen blanket over the wooden houses.
It was an old feeling that had jarred him from his sleep and driven him out in the middle of this mighty cold night. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced since after fightin' in the Seminole village. But he still knew it. It sat in his bones, cold and wary.
Dark shadows flitted over and through his vision, fast as arrows. The dry rustle of wing beats filled his ears. An occasional soft croak broke the velvet silence further.
The crows were here. They sat perched around him on the porch, the dust and the roof. A large flock, staring at them with beady eyes that shone coolly.
The harbingers of death.
He sat there, quiet as the mountains and waited. Josiah knew the birds weren't there for him, but that someone he cared about was in grave danger. Some of the birds hopped around, nervously cawing. Another ruffled its feathers; black feathers glistening like a starry night, those ebony feathers, black as JD's hair, JD's...JD.
He breathed in all of the long winter's cold nights.
Oh dear Lord, not JD
The crows let out a simultaneous deafening caw and flew up, filling the air with whispered wing beats and mocking croaks.
He needed to warn...somebody...Chris? Buck! He tried to get out of his chair but his numb, shocked limbs refused to cooperate. The impact of the knowledge stunned him.
He concentrated all his fear, all his fury, all his care for the boy and stumbled out of the seat and down the porch. The sound of a slammed door stopped him. Buck stormed towards the livery, pale, grim-faced. Fleetingly, their eyes met, understood.
Josiah followed in Buck's wake, praying the never-granted prayer.