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Midway between a certain blue lake and a deep forest there once stood a cottage, called by its owner “The Rookery.”

The forest shut out the sunlight and scowled upon the ground, breaking with shadows every ray that fell, until only a few little pieces lay scattered about. But the broad lake invited all the rays to come and rest upon her, so that sometimes she shone from shore to shore, and the sun winked and blinked above her, as though dazzled by his own reflection. The cottage, which was very small, had sunny windows and dark windows. Only from the roof could you see the mountains beyond, where the light crept up in the morning and down in the evening, turning all the brooks into living silver as it passed.

But something brighter than sunshine used often to look from the cottage into the forest, and something even more gloomy than shadows often glowered from its windows upon the sunny lake. One was the face of little Ruky Lynn; and the other was his sister’s when she felt angry or ill-tempered.

They were orphans, Cora and Ruky, living alone in the cottage with an old uncle. Cora—or “Cor,” as Ruky called her—was nearly sixteen years old, but her brother had seen the forest turn yellow only four times. She was, therefore, almost mother and sister in one. The little fellow was her companion night and day. Together they ate and slept, and—when Cora was not at work in the cottage—together they rambled in the wood, or floated in their little skiff upon the lake.

Ruky had bright, dark eyes, and the glossy blackness of 10his hair made his cheeks look even rosier than they were. He had funny ways for a boy, Cora thought. The quick, bird-like jerks of his raven-black head, his stately baby gait, and his habit of pecking at his food, as she called it, often made his sister laugh. Young as he was, the little fellow had learned to mount to the top of a low-branching tree near the cottage, though he could not always get down alone. Sometimes when, perched in the thick foliage, he would scream, “Cor! Cor! Come, help me down!” his sister would answer, as she ran out laughing, “Yes, little Crow! I’m coming.”

Perhaps it was because he reminded her of a crow that Cora called him her little bird. This was when she was good-natured and willing to let him see how much she loved him. But in her cloudy moments, as the uncle called them, Cora was another girl. Everything seemed ugly to her, or out of tune. Even Ruky was a trial; and, instead of giving him a kind word, she would scold and grumble until he would steal from the cottage door, and, jumping lightly from the door-step, seek the shelter of his tree. Once safely perched among its branches he knew she would finish her work, forget her ill-humor, and be quite ready, when he cried “Cor! Cor!” to come from the cottage with a cheery, “Yes, little Crow! I’m coming! I’m coming!”

No one could help loving Ruky, with his quick, affectionate ways; and it seemed that Ruky, in turn, could not help loving every person and thing around him. He loved his silent old uncle, the bright lake, the cool forest, and even his little china cup with red berries painted upon it. But more than all, Ruky loved his golden-haired sister, and the great dog, who would plunge into the lake at the mere pointing of his chubby little finger. In fact, that finger and the commanding baby voice were “law” to Nep at any time.

Nep and Ruky often talked together, and though one used barks and the other words, there was a perfect understanding between them. Woe to the straggler that dared to rouse Nep’s wrath, and woe to the bird or rabbit that ventured too near!—those great teeth snapped at their prey 11without even the warning of a growl. But Ruky could safely pull Nep’s ears or his tail, or climb his great shaggy back, or even snatch away the untasted bone. Still, as I said before, every one loved the child; so, of course, Nep was no exception.

One day Ruky’s “Cor! Cor!” had sounded oftener than usual. His rosy face had bent saucily to kiss Cora’s upturned forehead, as she raised her arms to lift him from the tree; but the sparkle in his dark eyes had seemed to kindle so much mischief in him that his sister’s patience became fairly exhausted.

“Has Cor nothing to do but to wait upon you?” she cried, “and nothing to listen to but your noise and your racket? You shall go to bed early to-day, and then I shall have some peace.”

“No, no, Cor. Please let Ruky wait till the stars come. Ruky wants to see the stars.”

“Hush! Ruky is bad. He shall have a whipping when Uncle comes back from town.”

Nep growled.

“Ha! ha!” laughed Ruky, jerking his head saucily from side to side; “Nep says ‘No!’”

9 answers

Cora couldn't help but smile despite her annoyance. Ruky had a way of making her forget her frustrations, even if only for a moment. She watched as he swayed gently on the branch, his laughter mingling with the rustling leaves and the murmur of the nearby lake. He was so spirited, so full of life.

"Alright, little Crow," she relented, with a sigh. "You may stay up a little longer, but only if you promise not to cause any more trouble, okay?"

Ruky's face lit up with delight. He loved how the stars danced in the night sky and looked forward to seeing them emerge one by one.

"Yes, yes! Ruky promises!" he chirped, clapping his hands together. He swung his legs happily from the branch, causing the tree to creak softly, and Cora felt a twinge of protective affection toward him.

As they both settled into the twilight, Cora went back to her chores, sweeping the small cabin with deliberate strokes, trying to ignore the playful squeals of her brother as he pretended to swoop down from the tree like a bird. She listened intently to the sounds of the forest surrounding them—the rustle of leaves, the whisper of the wind, and the distant croaking of frogs near the lake. It was a symphony of nature, one she cherished even when her mood was less than sunny.

Finally, the deepening blue of the sky began to sprinkle silver. The first star twinkled shyly above them, quickly followed by others, dotting the darkening canvas with glimmers of hope. Ruky gasped in awe. “Cor! Look! The stars are waking up!” he exclaimed, his voice a mixture of thrill and wonder.

Cora paused, leaning against the doorframe, her heart warming at his enthusiasm. "Yes, they are, little Crow. They’ve been waiting for you," she replied, willing her impatience to dissipate. Ruky’s joy was infectious, and slowly, Cora felt the shadows of her earlier mood fade away.

“Let’s make a wish!” Ruky suggested, his eyes sparkling brighter than the stars above.

Cora considered this for a moment. "What should we wish for?"

“Ruky wishes….” He scrunched his little face in concentration. “Ruky wishes for adventures! Let’s find treasures in the forest!”

Cora giggled. "Alright, but remember, those treasures come with dangers, and we must be brave and clever."

“I’m super brave! Just like Nep!” Ruky declared, puffing out his tiny chest. They could always count on Nep, the loyal dog, to be by their side; he was as brave as he was gentle.

As the last light faded and the stars glimmered above, Cora and Ruky sat together on the cottage doorstep, side by side, sharing dreams of fantastic journeys through enchanted forests, across shimmering lakes, and into the hearts of glittering mountains. The cottage was their home, but the world beyond was a canvas of adventures waiting to be discovered.

In that moment, under the watchful stars and with the soft sighs of the forest surrounding them, the troubles of the day melted away, leaving only the bond of a sister and her little brother, ready to face whatever lay ahead. They were explorers at heart, and the night was just beginning.

Nep was shut out of the cottage for his pains, and poor Ruky was undressed, with many a hasty jerk and pull.

“You hurt, Cor!” he said, plaintively. “I’m going to take off my shoes my own self.”

“No, you’re not,” cried Cora, almost shaking him; and when he cried she called him naughty, and said if he did not stop he should have no supper. This made him cry all the more, and Cora, feeling in her angry mood that he deserved severe punishment, threw away his supper and put him to bed. Then all that could be heard were Ruky’s low sobs and the snappish clicks of Cora’s needles, as she sat knitting, with her back to him.

He could not sleep, for his eyelids were scalded with tears, and his plaintive “Cor! Cor!” had reached his sister’s ears in vain. She never once looked up from those gleaming knitting-needles, nor even gave him his good-night kiss.

12It grew late. The uncle did not return. At last Cora, sulky and weary, locked the cottage door, blew out her candle, and lay down beside her brother.

The poor little fellow tried to win a forgiving word, but she was too ill-natured to grant it. In vain he whispered, “Cor, Cor!” He even touched her hand over and over again with his lips, hoping she would turn toward him, and, with a loving kiss, murmur, as usual, “Good night, little bird.”

Instead of this, she jerked her arm angrily away, saying:

“Oh, stop your pecking and go to sleep! I wish you were a crow in earnest, and then I’d have some peace.”

After this, Ruky was silent. His heart drooped within him as he wondered what this “peace” was that his sister wished for so often, and why he must go away before it could come to her.

Soon, Cora, who had rejoiced in the sudden calm, heard a strange fluttering. In an instant she saw by the starlight a dark object circle once or twice in the air above her, then dart suddenly through the open window.

Astonished that Ruky had not shouted with delight at the strange visitor, or else clung to her neck in fear, she turned to see if he had fallen asleep.

No wonder that she started up, horror-stricken,—Ruky was not there!

His empty place was still warm; perhaps he had slid softly from the bed. With trembling haste she lighted the candle, and peered into every corner. The boy was not to be found!

Then those fearful words rang in her ears:

“I wish you were a crow in earnest!”

Cora rushed to the door, and, with straining gaze, looked out into the still night.

“Ruky! Ruky!” she screamed.

There was a slight stir in the low-growing tree.

“Ruky, darling, come back!”

“Caw, caw!” answered a harsh voice from the tree. Something black seemed to spin out of it, and then, in great sweeping 13circles, sailed upward, until finally it settled upon one of the loftiest trees in the forest.

“Caw, caw!” it screamed, fiercely.

The girl shuddered, but, with outstretched arms, cried out:

“Oh, Ruky, if it is you, come back to poor Cor!”

“Caw, caw!” mocked hundreds of voices, as a shadow like a thunder-cloud rose in the air. It was an immense flock of crows. She could distinguish them plainly in the starlight, circling higher and higher, then lower and lower, until, with their harsh “Caw, caw!” they sailed far off into the night.

“Oh, Ruky, answer me!” she cried.

Nep growled, the forest trees whispered softly together, and the lake, twinkling with stars, sang a lullaby as it lifted its weary little waves upon the shore: there was no other sound.

It seemed that daylight never would come; but at last the trees turned slowly from black to green, and the lake put out its stars, one by one, and waited for the new day.

Cora, who had been wandering restlessly in every direction, now went weeping into the cottage. “Poor boy!” she sobbed; “he had no supper.” Then she scattered breadcrumbs near the doorway, hoping that Ruky would come for them; but only a few timid little songsters hovered about, and, while Cora wept, picked up the food daintily, as though it burned their bills. When she reached forth her hand, though there were no crows among them, and called “Ruky! Ruky!” they scattered and flew away in an instant.

Next she went to the steep-roofed barn, and, bringing out an apronful of grain, scattered it all around his favorite tree. Before long, to her great joy, a flock of crows came by. They spied the grain, and soon were busily picking it up with their short, feathered bills. One even came near the mound where she sat. Unable to restrain herself longer, she fell upon her knees with an imploring cry:

“Oh, Ruky! is this you?”

Instantly the entire flock set up an angry “caw,” and, surrounding the crow, who was hopping closer and closer to 14Cora, hurried him off, until they all looked like mere specks against the summer sky.

Cora watched helplessly as the crows disappeared into the blue expanse, her heart heavy with regret. She knelt there, clutching her apron tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “What have I done?” she whispered to the empty air, overcome by sorrow. The image of Ruky’s bright smile, his sparkling eyes full of mischief, flooded her mind like a haunting melody.

The morning sun began to crest over the horizon, painting the sky with soft hues of gold and pink, but all Cora could feel was a chilling emptiness. Desperate for a sign that Ruky was safe, she remembered the stories her uncle had told them—the old tales of crows as messengers, of their ability to traverse realms and carry secrets. "Is he really out there?" she thought, clutching her knees to her chest, the thought of her little brother transformed into a creature of the night piercing her heart with guilt.

With determination surging through her, Cora stood, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. She knew she had to search for Ruky. “I’ll find you, little bird,” she promised, her voice steadying. “I will bring you back, I swear.”

She hastily donned her shoes, collected a few bits of bread, and set off toward the forest, calling, “Ruky! Ruky!” as she went, her voice echoing among the trees. The sun illuminated the path, but the shadows still held their secrets. Each rustle of leaves or distant caw sent her heart racing, each moment feeling like an eternity.

Cora ventured deeper into the trees, hoping against hope that her little brother would respond. As her footsteps crunched on the fallen leaves, she recalled their shared laughs, the times they floated together on the lake, and his silly antics that made her both laugh and scold. She needed to forget her temper and focus—Ruky depended on her now.

Hours passed, and just as despair began to creep in, she heard it—a distinct sound that gave her a flicker of hope. From somewhere above, a caw broke through the whispering foliage. It was a familiar sound. Cora looked up, squinting into the branches above, and her heart raced in her chest as she spotted a shape moving, flapping its wings against the morning light.

“Ruky?” she called, stepping closer to the tree where the crow perched, its glossy black feathers shining like obsidian. It tilted its head, its beady eyes locking onto hers as if assessing her. “Is that you?”

The crow cawed again, and in a flutter of wings, it swooped down, landing softly at her feet. Cora’s heart leaped—this crow was different. It seemed to possess a certain intelligence, a spark that made her think of her brother.

“Please, Ruky! If that’s really you, come back! You can’t stay as a crow!”

At her words, the crow hopped forward, pecking gently at her apron, as if urging her to follow. Hope surged within her. Was he trying to lead her somewhere? Without hesitation, she followed the crow as it took off again, spiraling upward before swooping low through the trees, guiding her through a narrow path she had never noticed before.

Cora chased after the crow, heart pounding, determined to unravel the mystery of this transformation. They traveled deeper into the woods, away from the familiar paths, until they reached a small clearing bathed in sunlight. At the very center stood a grand old oak, its gnarled branches sprawling wide and its trunk thick and sturdy.

The crow perched on a low branch, cawing softly and flapping its wings. Cora approached the tree, feeling a strange energy radiating from it. “Ruky, if you hear me, show me a sign!” she pleaded, desperation threading her voice.

In response, the crow flapped its wings once more, hovering for just a moment, then diving toward the ground, landing at the base of the oak. There, amid the roots, a tiny glimmer caught Cora’s eye. She knelt down and brushed away the underbrush, revealing a small stone carved with intricate patterns—a charm she recognized from the stories, said to hold magic and transform the heart's desires.

Cora’s mind raced. “Could it be that Ruky's wish brought him here?” She clutched the stone tightly in her hand. “If you can hear me, Ruky, you must come back. Let this charm break the spell!”

In that moment, a gust of wind swirled around her, and the crow flew back to her shoulder, cawing fiercely. With a shared understanding, Cora closed her eyes and wished with all her heart for her brother to return, channeling every ounce of love she had for him.

And suddenly, the air seemed to shimmer. Cora opened her eyes just as a flash of brilliance illuminated the clearing. For a brief moment, everything went quiet, and then all at once, the light faded, leaving her breathless.

Before her stood Ruky, blinking up at her, a bit disheveled but very much himself. “Cor!” he exclaimed, launching himself into her arms, his little body warm and real.

“Oh, Ruky! You’re back! I can’t believe it!” Cora cried, holding him tight and feeling the weight of her regret lift.

“I was a bird!” he said, his eyes wide with wonder. “I flew all over the forest!”

“Let’s never speak of that again,” she murmured, smoothing back his hair. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

They shared a moment, side by side, the chaos of the world around them fading into the background. At that moment, they were two souls connected in an unbreakable bond, leaving behind the shadows and stepping into the warmth of the sunlit clearing.

Together, hand in hand, they walked back toward the cottage, the promise of new adventures awaiting them, and a deeper understanding of love sparking between them with every step.

Every day, rain or shine, she scattered the grain, trembling with dread lest Nep should leap among the hungry crows, and perhaps kill her “little bird” first. But Nep knew better; he never stirred when the noisy crowd settled around the cottage, excepting once, when one of them pounced upon his back. Then he started up, wagging his tail, and barking with uproarious delight. The crow flew off in a flutter, and did not venture near him again.

Poor Cora felt sure that this could be no other than Ruky. Oh, if she only could have caught him then! Perhaps with kisses and prayers she might have won him back to Ruky’s shape; but now the chance was lost.

There was no one to help her; for the nearest neighbor dwelt miles away, and her uncle had not yet returned.

After a-while she remembered the little cup, and, filling it with grain, stood it upon a grassy mound. When the crows came, they fought and struggled for its contents with many an angry cry. One of them made no effort to seize the grain. He was content to peck at the berries painted upon its sides, as he hopped joyfully around it again and again. Nep lay very quiet. Only the tip of his tail twitched with an eager, wistful motion. But Cora sprang joyfully toward the bird.

“It is Ruky!” she cried, striving to catch it.

Alas! the cup lay shattered beneath her hand, as, with a taunting “caw, caw,” the crow joined its fellows and flew away.

Next, gunners came. They were looking for other birds; but they hated the crows, Cora knew, and she trembled for Ruky. She heard the sharp crack of fowling-pieces in the forest, and shuddered whenever Nep, pricking up his ears, darted with an angry howl in the direction of the sound. She knew, too, that her uncle had set traps for the crows, and it seemed to her that the whole world was against the poor birds, plotting their destruction.

Time flew by. The leaves seemed to flash into bright colors 15and fall off almost in a day. Frost and snow came. Still the uncle had not returned, or, if he had, she did not know it. Her brain was bewildered. She knew not whether she ate or slept. Only the terrible firing reached her ears, or that living black cloud came and went with its ceaseless “caw.”

At last, during a terrible night of wind and storm, Cora felt that she must go forth and seek her poor bird.

“Perhaps he is freezing—dying!” she cried, springing frantically from the bed, and casting her long cloak over her night-dress.

In a moment, she was trudging barefooted through the snow. It was so deep she could hardly walk, and the sleet was driving into her face; still she kept on, though her numbed feet seemed hardly to belong to her. All the way she was praying in her heart; promising never, never to be passionate again, if she only could find her bird—not Ruky the boy, but whatever he might be. She was willing to accept her punishment. Soon a faint cry reached her ear. With eager haste, she peered into every fold of the drifted snow. A black object caught her eye. It was a poor storm-beaten crow, lying there benumbed and stiff.

For Ruky’s sake she folded it closely to her bosom, and plodded back to the cottage. The fire cast a rosy light on its glossy wing as she entered, but the poor thing did not stir. Softly stroking and warming it, she wrapped the frozen bird in soft flannel and blew into its open mouth. Soon, to her great relief, it revived, and even swallowed a few grains of wheat.

Cold and weary, she cast herself upon the bed, still folding the bird to her heart. “It may be Ruky! It is all I ask,” she sobbed. “I dare not ask for more.”

Suddenly she felt a peculiar stirring. The crow seemed to grow larger. Then, in the dim light, she felt its feathers pressing lightly against her cheek. Next, something soft and warm wound itself tenderly about her neck, and she heard a sweet voice saying:

“Don’t cry, Cor,—I’ll be good.”

She started up. It was, indeed, her own darling! The 16starlight shone into the room. Lighting her candle, she looked at the clock.

It was just two hours since she had uttered those cruel words! Sobbing, she asked:

“Have I been asleep, Ruky, dear?”

“I don’t know, Cor. Do people cry when they’re asleep?”

“Sometimes, Ruky,” clasping him very close.

“Then you have been asleep. But Cor, please don’t let Uncle whip Ruky.”

“No, no, my little bird—I mean, my brother. Good night, darling!”

“Good night.”

Cora held Ruky close, feeling the warmth of his small body against her chest, as if trying to absorb all the love she had denied him earlier. The fear and anguish of the past days melted away, replaced by a profound relief that he was safe, back in her arms where he belonged.

“Ruky, you must promise me something,” she whispered, brushing a few stray strands of hair from his forehead. “Promise you won’t wander away again.”

He looked up at her, his round dark eyes wide and sincere. “I promise, Cor. But... I like being a crow too. I can fly!” He flapped his arms for emphasis, twirling around in the middle of the small cottage, the remnants of his crow behavior surfacing in his enthusiasm.

Cora couldn’t help but chuckle, her heart swelling with affection. “The world is big and beautiful, yes, but I need you here with me. I can’t lose you again, Ruky. Let’s look out for each other.”

As they settled down in the warm glow of the fire, Cora couldn’t shake the thought of the crow she had saved from the storm. It was a strange coincidence that it had come to her just before Ruky returned in his true form. She wanted to tell him about it, but she feared he’d want to fly again.

“Ruky,” she started cautiously, “what was it like when you were a crow?”

“Oh, it was very wonderful!” he replied excitedly, his face lighting up. “I saw the whole forest, all the trees and streams! I could go anywhere! The other crows were my friends.”

Cora listened intrigued, yet a twinge of worry twisted in her stomach. “But you must remember that you are my little brother and not just a bird. I love you—gray feathers or not. And I don’t want you to think you can just fly away whenever you want.”

Ruky’s face fell, and he looked down at the ground. “I won’t, Cor. I want to be with you. It’s just... it felt so free.”

Cora wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. “We can be free together, little Crow. We can go to the lake and the forest whenever you like, but please stay with me, by my side.”

After a moment, he nodded slowly, and together they settled in for the night, lulled by the crackling fire, the howling wind outside now just a distant echo.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the windows, warming the cottage and dispelling the remnants of the storm. Cora awoke to the sound of Ruky’s light laughter, the way his glee would bubble out at the smallest things—a beam of light catching dust motes, the way Nep’s fur shone in the sun, or the dance of the branches swaying in the gentle wind outside.

“Come look, Cor!” he called, pulling her toward the window.

Cora joined him and gasped at the breathtaking sight. The storm had left a pristine blanket of snow covering the ground outside, sparkling like a field of diamonds in the morning light. The trees looked like guardians dusted with sugar, a breathtaking landscape waiting for them to explore.

“We should go outside,” Ruky urged, bouncing in excitement. “Let’s make footprints and catch snowflakes on our tongues!”

Cora smiled, her heart lightening. “Yes, let’s! But this time, we stay together.”

They bundled up, and soon they were outside, plowing through the deep snow, laughing as they flung snowballs at each other, creating happy memories in their little world. Ruky squealed in delight as he tried to catch snowflakes, grinning from ear to ear.

As they played, Cora felt a new resolve filling her—she would cherish Ruky more than ever, learning to embrace all his eccentricities, even if they sometimes drove her mad. And together, they would explore not just the forest and lake, but also the depths of their bond, learning and growing together as siblings more than ever before.

Later in the day, as they sat down to a steaming meal, the conversation turned to their adventures that lay ahead. Cora talked about making a small raft to float on the lake, while Ruky excitedly proposed they build a hideout in the trees, a secret place just for them.

Together, they planned and dreamed, unveiling the world around them. The worries of the past began to fade, buried in the flurry of laughter, dreams, and the unwavering love that bound them together, stronger than any storm they might encounter.

From that day forth, Cora promised herself to always hold onto the love they shared and the lessons learned through shadows and light, and whatever adventures awaited them, they would face together—side by side.

In 3–5 sentences, describe changes you could make to the dream subplot that would increase tension, mystery, or surprise in the story. (4 points)

To increase tension, mystery, or surprise in the dream subplot, Cora could experience vivid dreams that foreshadow Ruky’s transformation and the dangers he faces as a crow, leading her to question what is real. Introduce an enigmatic character—a wise but mysterious figure in the forest—who offers cryptic warnings and guidance, making Cora doubt her decisions and the nature of Ruky’s curse. Additionally, allow the dreams to become increasingly nightmarish, with dark visions of Ruky's fate and unsettling encounters with ominous crows that seem to taunt her, ultimately propelling her to take more desperate actions. Finally, a twist could occur where Ruky, while in crow form, has fragmented memories of their past that surface sporadically in Cora’s dreams, fueling her determination to decipher their meaning and save him.

3 sentences and simpler

To increase tension and mystery, Cora could have disturbing dreams that hint at Ruky's danger as a crow, making her fear for his safety. A mysterious figure in the forest could give her cryptic advice about Ruky's transformation, leaving her confused and anxious. Additionally, Ruky could occasionally remember glimpses of their past while in crow form, creating a deeper connection and urgency for Cora to find a way to bring him back.