At that moment the girl’s mother raised her head, looked at the raven, and recognition flashed across her face.

• It’s him…” she whispered. – It’s the same raven. He always flew into our yard.

People turned around in surprise. The woman took a step forward and said loudly, through her tears:

• Our daughter fed him. Almost every day. He would fly to the balcony and wait for her daughter to bring him bread. She said he was her friend. She even drew pictures of us – me, my husband… and him. The raven was always there in her drawings.

During the girl’s funeral, a black raven suddenly sat on the coffin, and after a few seconds everyone looked at the bird in horror

Remembering this, she pulled out a folded drawing from her bag – she had had it with her all along. On the paper, in a child’s hand, were drawn three people: a mom, a dad, and a girl, and next to them, a black bird with kind eyes.

All had wing hands, as if they were one family.

• ‘He came to say goodbye,’ said the mother, in a calmer voice. – He wasn’t just a raven. He remembered her.

All present stood in silence, unable to utter a word. Something in this story had touched the finest strings of everyone’s soul.

During the girl’s funeral a black raven suddenly sat on the coffin, and after a few seconds everyone looked at the bird with horror

And the raven, as if hearing her words, tilted his head, as if as a sign of respect, and after a long pause spread his wings. It soared into the air and disappeared behind the trees.