The witch left seeds out for the birds every morning.
At first, the blackbird avoided it, certain that it was poison. He would watch the other birds peck at the seeds, heedless and twittering, and watch what happened to them.
When they didn’t fall over dead, he hopped to a closer branch, watching carefully for her cats to come tearing out of a dark corner to pick off a straggler.
When they didn’t appear, he flew to the edge of the feeder.
He would take her food, but never forgive her for the curse changed his form from a man’s.