I rush to the window.   Ravensmite lands on the branch of a tree and caws loudly.   It is a full moon.  The outline of the large bird is easy to see.  Suddenly, its gimlet eyes spot something and it swoops.  It is the decayed corpse of a rabbit.  The huge hooked beak tears at the tendrils of flesh and maggots.  It gorges hungrily, the head shifting into a teenage boy wolfing at the feast of death upon the ground.   He licks the ground clean of blood and maggots.   After a final sniff around, it shifts fully back into a powerful, glistening raven again.