All ravens were once white until one raven passed through the smoke hole of the longhouse and turned black.
That one bird, they say, seemed to always be around the golden spruce. Perhaps they were talking, talking about the end of days.
Then last week the bird was in Port Clements. It was on the electrical transformer near the motel. Remember we stayed there, the Golden Spruce Motel.
It stepped in the wrong place or something. All the lights went out in Port Clements. I guess they've fixed the electricity, but that bird is no more.