What is a Frien-emy?

With my new hope cradled in my arms, I hop into the forest. The forest is dark, cold. The ground is hard beneath my feet. I hear noises, see shadows that are cast by nothing. I hear a crack behind me, see a shadow. I turn. There is a black bird behind me. I cannot see clearly.
  "Mother?" I say.
  "No." A silky voice replies. "I am not your dirty mother."
  "Are you a raven?" I ask.
  "No, I am a starling."
  "Who are you?"
  "My name is Starr Ling." She replies. "Pleased to meet you."
  Starr is not pleased to meet me. I can tell. She looks me over and silently assesses me.
  "You seem like a clean bird." She says. "Where do you live?"
  "Nowhere. I was pushed out of my nest." I answer.
  "Why?" She asks.
  "I have a miniature wing."
  "Oh." She looks at it distastefully. "Poor you." She says, not meaning it. "I guess you could live with me. Only until you find somewhere else to live."
  "Yes, ma'am!" She leads me to a large pile of junk. Old twigs, rotten eggs, litter. She takes me around to a  hole in a tree right next to it. She shows me inside. I see a nest made out of twigs and someone's sock.
  "Why did you call my mother dirty earlier?" I ask.
  "Because it is true." She says while hopping to the sock and sitting down. "We all have heard about your mother. She was a traitor among friends. My mother was best friends with yours. They had so many laughs together, shared so many memories. But then, your silly little mother decided she was going to hook up with my mother's cousin. And that ended it. It wasn't until the great landslide that your mother got what was coming for her. She never knew what hit her, the great oaf. It wasn't until she died that we all knew. That we all knew that you would be just like her!"
  "Died?" I ask. My mother is alive and well in her nest.
  "Yes, died." Starr says. Her beak curls. "She was killed in a landslide, she was. Then your oaf of a father wanted another wife, so what does he do but remarry, the great traitor."
  "My mother isn't my real mother?"
  "No, of course not. You don't have to sum up my story to get the point. Your mother is dead, finite. No more mummy for Raven."
  "How do you know my name?"
  "Your famous, for Pete's sake!"
  "Famous?"
  "Yes, famous! You heard me right well!"
  "What did I do?"
  "That nest is strawberry if I know."
  "You don't know?"
  "What do you think I just said, kid? I just said that my nest is a strawberry if I know. Of course I don't know, that was the point of my ruddy metaphor!" She says, standing up. "Go to sleep, you tweet." She hops outside and I hear her picking through the junk.
  "Good night." I say quietly to where she was just standing. "Is she my friend, or my enemy?"


Signed,
Raven