Novel
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
It is easy for ravens to hold their secrets close. Indeed, she often forgets she even has secrets. The bird is encompassing, and the dramas of the equine are rarely of interest to such fickle creatures. And while her newfound companion studies her with question in his astute gaze, she suddenly loses interest in the odd game. Another loud squawk issues forth, and with sudden alacrity she plucks a silvery white hair from the stallion’s mane.
Hopping backwards with her prize, still perched precariously atop Maleficar’s sloped spine, she peers at him with those spritely black eyes, prize clutched greedily in her beak. But her distraction lasts only a moment, for beneath his amused breath, a puff of dust curls about her, settling a tiny wizard’s hat atop her gleaming head.
Another caw sends her shiny prize fluttering as she flaps her wings wildly, claws digging into his rudy skin. Tilting her head this way and that yet still unable to spy her new adornment, she let’s out an avian grumble. Abruptly, she steps from his back, fluttering to a nearby puddle to peer at the pointed hat. After a long, silent moment, she cries her satisfaction before turning back, beady eyes fixing upon her companion.
In her commotion, the words hadn’t truly registered. At this point, he must think her nothing more than a silly bird. But as she stares at him, understanding of his admission sinks in. Someone different. Truly, she hadn’t considered it too much. Bird and horse are each different in their own respects, and yet both are still she. Still Novel.
Sometimes, it is easy to forget though. When she is a raven, it’s easy to forget the horse. To get lost in the bird. Like now, when she can barely remember a time she had been like him. Flapping her wings, she tilts her head as she peers at him. For a moment, oily black melts into midnight blue and dusty orange. For a moment, the oddly colored raven simply stares. Then, she fluffs her wings before black melts over her feathers once more.
Once again she is just a bird. As though she has forgotten how to be anything else other than a raven.
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before.