"That... female thing."
There was one soul who noticed the cold, shivering thing under the tree that late eve in the hailstorm. A crow demon, undeterred by the bad weather, was taking to the air that very night. Its iridescent wings were absorbing as much moonlight as they could from the cloudy sky. Drinking in this special light was like consuming a sweet alcohol, and it pushed crow demons like this one nearly to a state of ecstatic inebriation. Obviously, it was here to let loose and enjoy itself, though whether it would succeed considering the conditions was questionable. It neither expected nor looked forward to seeing something--well, that wasn't food--die.
Nevertheless, as it was wandering with the wind in a happy bliss, the crow demon's sixth sense pricked. The startled bird flew toward the human girl before it realized what it was doing; the disorientation was enough to bring the crow face-to-face with Crow.
The first thing it understood was that the human was dying. Then, it was what kind of human the girl was. Its awed voiced cawed, only to be drowned out by the pounding hail.
A baby crow's soul.