There was only wind, and gravity.
The former came like a rushing river current, billowing under his glistening black feathers and making them shudder. The latter pulled from beneath him, tempting him downwards, a siren call that nothing on this physical plane was capable of ignoring.
Not without wings.
Kharon had wings. They were spread wide now, carrying him through the air effortlessly, shifting up and down and forward in a lazy looping eight as he flew. It was, without a doubt, the greatest sensation he had ever known-- in every last minute of every last day of every last year of his two centuries, he had never been as happy as he was when flying.
Kharon let out a cry of joy, and surrendered to the pull from below. He dipped, forward and down, and let the wind rush past him as the earth rose up like a titan eager for its meal. Anthills became mountains, and the carpet of deep emerald green broke into a patchwork of leaves and open ground. The closer he dove to the ground, the darker his shadow became, black and threatening and setting every prey instinct scattering.
Luckily for them, he wasn't interested. His wings spread wide to slow his descent, and with a chatter and grumble he landed on a bare tree branch.
Something cawed in the distance. Kharon cawed back. It was harder to think, in this form; he wasn't incapable of reasonable thought, crows were far too clever for their own good, which was half the reason he loved being them. But there was still the limitations, less a language and more intuition, a flash of memory and color and associations. The caws didn't actually mean anything, and yet they meant so much.
This was bright, the stranger's call said. Yellow. A shiny trinket. Spotting a friend, who had shown you the best places to get the sweetest corn. The feeling of the familiar, the pleasant, the curious.
Kharon tilted his head, hopped a few knots to his left. Spread his wings once more, flapped to an adjacent tree. Tilted his head the other way, and let out a louder caw. Curious, inquisitive, searching, questioning, a soft teal colour, a puzzle of a box that you knew held something interesting inside.
Who's there?