Novel

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

The lazy days of summer had drifted on past her, and she had barely taken heed. Now the days shorten as the nights grow ever longer and still she barely takes note. But then, she has rarely paid attention to such things. As the weather grows colder, she simply fluffs her feathers and carries on. Snow is hardly an obstacle for one with wings.

Tonight is no different, at least on the face of it. The moon hangs bright and cold in the sky, illuminating a world breathing it's chilly exhalation as it fades from summer to winter. Leaves still barely cling to the trees, a stubborn determination she can appreciate. For the small raven flitting from tree to tree however, the shifting on seasons hardly signifies.

No, what catches her attention is a horse. At first glance, he hardly appears special. In fact, she almost overlooks him, content to ignore what does not interest her. But then, she doesn't.

For a while, she clings to the sparse trees heralding the start of the meadow. But soon enough, curiosity overwhelms her. Especially when the odd hat appears magically atop his head. With a loud squawk and an abrupt flap of her wings, she flutters across the meadow until she has landed close enough to allow her quite conspicuous study. With another caw, she fixes beady black eyes upon the strange beast before her, head tilting first one way, then the other in distinctly bird-like curiosity.

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before.

Novel

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

She is hardly quiet in her approach, but still she is unused to her subjects paying much heed to her. An innocuous black raven is hardly an uncommon sight around here. She has grown so accustomed to the objects of her curiosity paying her such little mind that when this particular stallion actually deigns to speak to her, she is a bit taken aback.

Still, she is nigh imperturbable and swiftly recovers.

Perhaps he expects no response to his invitation, but she gives one anyway. A loud caw that echoes through the night without shyness. But that hat has caught her attention, and so she takes him up on his offer. She might have anyway, even if he had not actually made the offer. But then, ravens are often forgiven for far more than their equine counterparts. Flitting from her perch, she lands easily upon his neck, taloned claws clutching at mane and meaty crest. Hopping closer, she eyes the odd little hat with open curiosity, head tilting this way and that as the studies it.

And then it disappears in a puff of shadowy smoke.

Squawking loudly, she abruptly flaps her wings as she hops hastily backwards until her toes dig into his withers. With one last indignant squawk, she turns her head to eye him beadily. In her displeasure, she is hardly paying attention to his words until her offers her a name. The suggestion draws her pique short as her quick and flighty brain latches onto the offering.

Poe.

It seemed a good name, though she is rather terrible with names. Some days she has trouble remembering even her own. So the thought brings her short, stirring memories she had thought buried. Stirring recollections of an equine life, one no doubt not so very far removed from this curious stallion’s.

Novel. Yes, that’s it. Her name. Her real one, not the one he had so generously gifted her. A name she had been granted at birth, and one she had once shared so freely.

But perhaps she could be Poe for a day. Perhaps she could be Poe for a lifetime.

And so, she caws an agreement.

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before.

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.