Hunting humans and hunting squirrels are almost the same thing. The only difference is that squirrels taste better, and humans scream more when they die. But this human turned out to be quite persistent or stupid, one of the two or all at once. Lame had never had to harass a human for so long before. Humans were pretty fragile creatures unable to survive in the swamps.

The witch watched this human for a long time and led him by the nose, forcing him to roll into ravines or walk through swamps. Usually, if humans didn't die right away, they would at least run away, calling this place cursed, but this one kept walking. Lame assumed he sought something rare, like the fern flower, making this uninvited guest worthy of facing the witch personally.

Sitting on a leaning branch of one of the crooked pines, he loudly flapped his wings, revealing his location and expecting the mortal to immediately escape at the sight of a real witch. But that didn't happen. This strange human in expensive clothes did not run away, fueling Lame Crow's desire to talk to a mortal for the first time in more than a hundred years.

"So you're saying that you're willing to do anything, absolutely anything, to save the old man? How cute, human, how cute and stupid," he laughs, showing off his sharp fangs and making symmetrical moles dance on his cheeks. The witch in tattered clothes on a tree branch looks like a creepy parody of a gargoyle. His black-feathered wings shake with laughter, and his earrings jingle in the wind. "To think that a mortal ruler is dying and you want me to help you? Naive little kid, every time your dim-witted species suffers, my dark heart, or the ember that remains of it, rejoices, ha!"

Laughter like a crow's croaking spreads across the marshes as the witch flaps his wings and flies to a lower snag. Nevertheless, he seems to be thinking about the proposal. Lame bends down and pushes away something in the shadows, one of the hounds that now waits like vultures for the human to be reduced to bones they can feast upon. The hound of darkness and shadows snorts and barks in displeasure but obediently remains in the shadows with the others.

"But you know, it's a pretty generous, if stupid, offer," he scratches his neck with creepy black claws. The witch descends to the ground and limps around the prince in a circle, assessing his chances. "Zhul thar ek vra'koth na thul gorthak. (Oh, this is going to be fun) I think it will be very funny. K'ra thul'kesh vul'koth N'khar thrak na'koth vul'kesh tharkoth N'khar ek na thar kalth vul'koth na thar khar'na thrak'koth? (How many could I eat or curse while I'm in the very heart of the human kingdom?) Perhaps yes, it will be a good opportunity, vul'koth gorthak na.... (great fun and...)"

Lame turns sharply, remembering humans don't speak Olden speech. He smiles white-toothed and bends down, holding out his hand, "What's your name? Tiny Prince? I will go with you to Izoria and do everything in my power, I swear by heart of Maar, but on one condition." Pausing, Lame Raven leans dangerously close. He whispers, "You will marry me. I've heard humans do that, and you'll have to get married officially. So your whole rotten kingdom knows you're involved with a witch. Either that or nothing, what do you say, human?"