Night comes a black raven its wings blocking out the Sun stars in its claws. We feed the raven our dreams to placate its hunger. Otherwise it would never relinquish the night. The great sail of our ships emblazoned with its form. They say we bring the night where once there was day. And now only the blackness of death remains where the raven has flown.
Vikings sailed into Golspie Scotland in the 10th century and a local chieftan killed their leader Kevin the red with the lower half of a horses leg.