When I was 20, I drove into the mountains to stay for a while. On my way, I stopped off just outside of Hinton, finding an isolated place to sleep and fish. I just finished setting up camp when a strange sound started to spread through the shallow valley, getting louder and more confused by the moment. I walked out to shore and from around a bend came what seemed like hundreds of black ravens silhoutted against the glowing sky, screaming their crackling urgent song. It went on forever and like a cloud they passed by, rushing downriver. I always wondered what they were singing, and I wanted to take flight and find the mysterious end to their sunset journey.