He was an interesting man. A bumbling idiot, surely, but interesting nonetheless. She held back another laugh as she tripped him once more with a quick root. How had he not yet realized that she and the trees had been playing pranks on him for hours? She slapped another small branch into his mouth and bit her hand to halt her chuckles as he sputtered loudly.

In the few short years she had been occupying this sleepy forest, the villagers had all been quite wary of her presence. Cravens, all of them, superstitious fools. Not that she minded, all it meant was more peace and quiet for her, and she…she needed peace and quiet. They respected nature properly, and did not take more than they required, good neighbors overall. Much better than the last town. They would not have to share the same fate.

Varavere blew a cold breeze down the large man’s neck, giggling when he jumped. How could he be brave enough to seek her out but so cowardly that a stray gust had him leaping for the stars? Such a large man, such large arms, yet no weapon? Dark hair, dark eyes, tan skin. As she blew another small breeze that ruffled his short hair, she admitted to herself that she found him quite handsome. This stranger had a boyish charm that most elves failed to carry to adulthood. Perhaps he was only half elven like herself, though she doubted his father was a wind spirit.

She had not planned on comforting him, on wiping away his tears, or taking him to his home. Varavere maintained a concerted effort to remain alone and aloof wherever she chose to reside. As she lay on her soft bed and contemplated the moon, she slapped a hand over her eyes in frustration. She had a weakness, one that she was sure would be her undoing one day. Varavere loved sweets. She could forage just fine in the forest, many of the animals brought her food as well, but it wasn’t as if the owls that neighbored her tree would gift her pastries or warm bread.

No, this Owain, he had bleated out the one thing that would save him from her; he could bake! When they had entered his bakery, so many delicious scents had welcomed her that she’d needed to take a moment to appreciate them. Her fearsome reputation was in danger if that fool’s family started spreading word that she had ‘saved’ that girl. Varavere shifted frustratedly, her racing mind would not allow her to get comfortable!

The feeling of his overlarge hands around her arms…it was as if he were still holding her! She screamed once more into her pillow. When had she last been touched by anyone? Two, no, three centuries? Whenever she had wiped out that city of humans that had been polluting that beautiful northern river. Wretched monsters, just thinking about how that woman had grabbed at her made Varavere furious. Varavere despised when others touched her…usually. She shot out of bed. Damnit!

She paced the length of her messy room, she needed a distraction. As the sorceress looked angrily at her small kitchen, she paused. Then she panned slowly to look at her small bed. Where would Owain sleep? Where would he bake? Leleara’s pearls she had not thought this through, had she? The temptation of daily warm bread had blinded her to a horrible truth; she had nowhere to put that ox of a man! The spell that allowed her to create this room in the trunk of an oak tree was incredibly intricate, would she even have enough time to modify it fully before she had said she would come to claim him?

Curse her sense of drama! Varavere eyed her ill-equipped kitchen mournfully. No matter, he would just need to figure it out! The lummox could sleep on her floor, the grass would be good for him. For him and his broad shoulders, his warm hands, his kind eyes…Here she was thinking of him again! She yelled her frustration at the cluttered shelves of her wall. This was not her fault, she reasoned. Varavere had hardly even spoken to another being for decades now! That’s all it was, she was not excited to see him again.

Varavere spent the next week in frantic spell casting, she would at least have a proper space for a kitchen prepared before her new servant arrived! It was always such a hassle to remake delicate spells like this, it was part of why she only moved homes every decade or so. Varavere could not linger too long, could not let him find her, never him. Never ever.

Her casting hitched and she cursed internally. She tried to banish the demon from her mind. Thoughts of a bumbling baker smiling up at her settled behind her eyes. Oh, come on!

By the time she had halfway finished expanding her magical home to include a larger kitchen, a fortnite had trudged by. As she was greeted by the warm dawn, Varavere was struck by intense restlessness. Even the mere idea of more chores horrified her, and if Debel chirped in her ear one more time about how big and grand his nest was; she’d turn him into a newt! She leapt out of her reading chair; patting down the wrinkles of her thick velvet dress, Varavere decided to do some snooping.

The form of the raven was most comfortable for her, elegant and mysterious, they were perfect. It was important to her that she maintained her druidic magic, shape-shifting was important. She flew in a proud little circle as she shook out her wings. Shifting shapes sometimes brought up old memories, unwanted ones. Varavere pushed away the melancholic thoughts of her youth; her sister's raucous laugh, her teacher’s cheshire grin; the demon, the demon, the demon. Argh! She cawed out angrily, enough!

Avian eyes closed as she dived towards the lumbering baker’s village, the screaming wind bringing her some welcome distraction. There were few people on the main street at this early hour. Varavere screeched at them as she sped by, enjoying how they startled.

She perched on a dilapidated fence-post just outside the bakery, watching through the large window with interest. The man, Owain, worked behind a long counter. He looked slightly different from when she’d last seen him; haggard, his movements were slow. Varavere watched him, watched his sisters and his mother, watched them work for a long while. They had very few customers. Odd, she had thought he was the only baker in this village. An old woman made a human gesture to ward away evil at her before cursing and hobbling away.

Ah, was she perhaps the reason? Varavere cawed with laughter, she had forgotten how superstitious this little hamlet was! She would move to the roof across from the bakery, away from fearful eyes. Just before she readied her wings, Owain made his way out the door, moving slowly so as not to startle her. What was that in his hand?

“Hello there little raven. Are you hungry? I’ve some bread for you.” He slowly edged his hand forward, displaying torn pieces of fresh bread. Hah! This man thought she was a regular bird! Caw! Caw! This was quite funny! She tilted her head, eying the bread. Well, it did look good, still steaming…and she did adore bread. Perhaps just a piece. “Here, take some. Oh, you are so beautiful, aren’t you?” His low, deep voice was pleasing, comforting; it stirred memories of better times.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

She nodded at him, yes, she was beautiful wasn’t she? She pecked a crust piece. Goddess, did she love bread! How many years? How many breadless years had it been! Varavere warbled happily.

“There you go little bird. Good girl!” She almost choked on her current morsel. His rough fingers were gently ruffling the feathers at her chin. Such insolence! How dare he! She bit his thumb with mighty ravenic force but he only laughed. The scoundrel! Damn, if this bread weren’t so good, she would give him what for! Well, it did feel rather nice to be pet, and he was being ever so gentle…She cawed in alarm! What sorcery did he possess that she was literally eating out of the palm of his hand? Varavere flew off in a squawk, enough nonsense, she could never stoop so low again!

She returned the next day. Varavere was polite enough to wait until just before she thought the bakery would close. Owain’s broad smile as he saw her alight on the fencepost caused something to twinge in her chest. She clacked her beak in frustration, no feelings, only bread! Sharp eyes watched as he called out to his sisters before gathering up a small kerchief and venturing out the door.

Varavere looked at the tied kerchief curiously. “Hello again, pretty raven. I’ve heard ravens are really smart. Well, I’ve got you bread for you in here, you can take it home!” He offered her a piece. She ate it angrily. Did he think that she, a powerful spell weaver, would take home this bag of crumbs? Absolutely not! She pecked at his hand in offense before working the loose knot undone. This stupid, handsome man would just have to feed them to her.

His laugh was clear and bright and she wanted to hear it more. “Alright, Miss Raven, I understand.” Varavere cawed in triumph. Goddess, was this bread delicious. So delicious that she even allowed him to once more pet her lovely feathers. His running dialog of how exceptional and beautiful she was might have lowered her guard.

A few short minutes later and she had devoured all of his tribute. Hmmm, what exactly was she doing? Why had she returned? Varavere cocked her head in thought. In the afternoon light, she realized his eyes were not black but a sparkling tawny. His long lashes were quite pretty. Bah!

Now that she was not stuffing her beak, she realized how much she was enjoying his company. Any being who treated animals with kindness and respect as he did was instantly elevated far above the rabble. It was good she had allowed him to speak before she'd scared him from the forest as she had all the others. Would he treat her so gently, so carefully, when she was in her normal form? She wondered.

Varavere enjoyed seeing him like this, confident and sweet, not stuttering and stumbling from fear. When he touched her, she did not find it revolting. She still did not quite know how to feel about that, or understand how it was possible. For so long she had lived in a deep fear of others touch, of having a part of herself stolen. Varavere hopped atop his offered hand. His gentle fingers brought to mind her elder sister. She missed Keela so much. If she closed her eyes, the sorceress could almost pretend the demon had never taken her away.

Owain brought her up to his eye level, grinning. “So you like my baking that much, huh?” He chuckled. “What a high honor.” Varavere nodded sagely as his calloused palm stroked her back. “Well, I’ve got to close up shop now, miss raven. Be sure to come back tomorrow and I’ll give you more treats.” She warbled haughtily, there was no way she would come back, it was beneath her to nose around for scraps. She flew off back home with a prideful screech.

Varavere returned the next day, and the day after, and the day after that. Over the next two weeks, it became their little routine. She would alight on the old fence post around closing time, he would rush out to meet her and feed her bread and tell her what a magnificent bird she was. His flattery had no effect on her of course.

She enjoyed spying on him as he worked, watching him apply frosting to cakes or cut out pie crusts or her favorite; watching him knead dough. The sinews of his massive forearms were fascinating. Scientifically of course, no other reason. Varavere was never close enough to hear the conversations between he and his family when there no customers in the shop but she suspected they were about her.

His mother would often cry and hold his face and his sisters seemed to take turns pleading with or scolding him, barring the one she had saved. That one seemed to only wish to mope in the back of the shop. It was enough to make Varavere begin to feel like some sort of villain for taking him away. Not enough that she would change her mind, no, his baking was too delicious; but she did feel a little bad.

It was the day before she was to claim his services, after she had finally finished adding space for a kitchen, that Owain was late to their scheduled appointment. Varavere clacked her talons against the fence post impatiently, cawing mischievously at the old woman that had taken to trying to chase her away whenever they crossed paths. So far Varavere remained undefeated. Stupid old lady.

The swinging of the bakery door brought her attention back to what was important, her bread. “Hello, Miss Raven. I’ve brought something special today.” He held one hand behind his back. What new treat was this? She clacked her beak at him. “It is a special occasion, my little friend. The last time we’ll be able to meet.”

Varavere cocked her head at him, Ahh, because he would be her personal baker from now on, of course he thought he would not see her again. He brought out the hand from behind his back, revealing the greatest treasure she had seen in centuries; a slice of fresh apple pie! She cawed excitedly.

The sorceress’ head was covered in sugared apple and she’d devoured half the slice before Owain stopped his chuckling and admiration to continue his one sided conversation. “This is my last day as a free man, Miss Raven. Tomorrow, the wi- the sorceress in the woods will come to claim me.” She paused in her messy eating to watch him sigh heavily. Would he hush already? She was trying to concentrate. “I only wish I knew what she wanted me for, or rather, if she’s going to let me live.” Varavere stared at him blankly while he laughed shakily. Oops, had she not mentioned that she just wanted him to make her treats everyday?

It was a good thing Owain could not read a birds expressions because he would've seen how embarrassed she looked. Thinking back, she had sounded rather ominous. The slice of pie tasted slightly less delicious as she realized the strain she had put him under. The baker spent a few more minutes playing with her before he trudged back inside. Oh, well now Varavere felt bad! He was making it seem like she was being difficult for wanting him to wait on her hand and foot, bake and serve her treats, and help out around the tree. He’d said he’d pay any price, he said he’d do ‘anything’! No, she decided, she couldn’t possibly be in the wrong.