The Crow and The Boy

There once was a little boy who snuck away from home, running into the forest to explore and play. He raced deep into the dark trees, wandering about, checking out everything that caught his interest. While he was out, he came across a crow in a hunters trap. The crow was flapping about and cawing, frightened at being caught in the trap. For a moment, the boy hesitates, for crows are omens of death but the crow's pain calls on the boy's heart.
"Hold still, little crow." Said the boy. "I'll get you out."
The boy freed the crow and turn to walk away.
"Wait." Said the crow. "I wish to thank you."
"What can a crow do to thank me? You are just an omen of death." Asks the boy. 
"There are many things I can do to thank you."
The boy, after pondering a moment, answered with, "One day, when I am in as much need as you were today, come to my aid as I came to yours today."
Without another word, the boy returned home and soon forgot the crow, for death rarely dwells in the minds of the young.
Years past and the boy became a man, a wise and respected member of his community. When monterous forces appeared, he was the first to act, originizing his people in order to protect their lands and homes. He lead them into battle against the monsters, fighting valiantly to ensure that his people survived. But things were not in his favor.
The boy fell, mortally injured to the ground. Hearing his people around him, struggling and dying, he thought for sure all was lost.
Then a crow came to rest on his chest, just over the worst of his wounds.
"A favor for a favor, a kindness for a kindness." The crow cawed. "You came to my aid, now I come to yours."
The crow laid down on the boy chest, healing his wounds completely, imparting power and life so he could have a second chance. The boy's pain faded with a gasp and he sat up, holding the now dead crow in his hands. Tears burned the boys' eyes as he stood, revilitized, and charged once more into the battle, being followed now by the corpuses of the dead.
With his leadership, the battle was won. The slain returned to death and their souls came to thank the boy once more. He watched his fallen pass on as he returned to where the crow lay. Gently and tenderly, he picked up it's lifeless form, holding it to his chest.
"Why? Why give your life for me?" He whispered into its feathers.
"You saved my life, giving me many great years." He jumps, seeing the crows soul now on his shoulder. "You gave me years that I wouldn't have had. Now I've given you the same gift, time."
The crow's soul flew off, leaving the boy once more. The boy vowed to remember the crow and placed it's form upon his people's flag, so all would know of the crow and the gift it gave.