A crow watches the fog quivering on the shore. Specks of colourful lights break through the greyness. Wave after wave rolls forward unloading their share of the dense haze, retreating with an audible sigh just as the next impatiently announces their arrival.
The crow seems right at home on its perch, a grey branch of a dead tree on the back of a colourless cliff. Together the Crow and Cliff faced the shore; the drab surroundings clearly had more of an impression on the Cliff than the Crow.
Misty eyed the Crow watches as more and more beads of light get washed onto the all consuming sands.
With a muted flap of his wings, the Crow clears his vision and launches into the pregnant abyss. His sharp eyes penetrate the gloomy atmosphere as he descends on a newly added sparkle of joy.
In the fog a dark figure moves towards the same light, pausing only briefly to snuff the flickering of those in its way.
The Crow banks to his right, circling over the dark figure before gliding down deeper into the haze. An old man hunched over, drab as his surroundings, his only possessions a torn robe and a leather bag with dust falling out from the seams.
The Old man bends his scraggly legs and collects another shiny red orb the light seemingly returning a semblance of colour to his pale grey skin. Slowly he places it into the sling bag and closes the clasp. After a moment the Old man inches forward again, this time a little faster, to the next bead of light, his next treasure.
Quickly, the Crow snaps at the clasp of the bag only able to shake free a couple of beads as the clasp comes undone and the lip of the bag flops forward.
The Old man lashes out with surprising speed almost hitting the Crow square in the chest as he hastily flaps his way out of reach.
Slowly the Old man bends down to recover the lost beads, the last one being the radiant red orb he had just added moments before.
The Old man's boney grey fingers grasped greedily at it again, his skin remaining dull like the fog surrounding him, the red glow of the orb that radiated warmth and kindness moments ago, just a distant thought now.
Circling around just above the densest of the fog, the Crow leaves the dark figure to do as it has always done. The Mind Trawler had his job and the Crow knew it was best to leave him to it.
Swiftly the Crow dips into the sameness of the fog, then abruptly spreads his wings to halt him seemingly midair. Pushing his wings forward the fog dissipates briefly like stormy clouds giving way to the sun.
"There you are," the Crow thinks to himself.
Swooping in the Crow grabs the orb in its claws and races towards the ocean. As the next wave comes crashing down overhead the Crow looks at the radiant purple orb transferring its colour to the murky dead waters around them and thinks.
"Time to find purpose, my friend."
