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The Old Raven

  The demons that invade sleep lay in wait for Laelia. They wore long hair that slithered and coiled around her waist, dragging her under murky water. When she struggled to break their grip, they mutated into white grubs with pointed teeth that nibbled on her face. Running from the grubs’ biting hooks, she dropped into a deep tunnel, desperately flailing her arms and grasping for something to break her fall as she spiraled into an endless void. All the while, the dark tunnel echoed loudly with the raspy calls of ravens.

  Laelia struggled to wake from the nightmare’s strangling hold on her. When she finally awoke, the dream vanished, leaving her confused as to its meaning. She curled up tight into her safe circle and tried desperately to remember the dream. Weary, she closed her eyes and drifted back into sleep.

  At dawn, Laelia was awakened by the raucous call of ravens. But this time it wasn’t a dream. Their guttural rattle bounced off the tree trunks in the woods and echoed down the cave’s tunnels to her small ears. The calls reminded her of the old raven. When the racket changed into a sorrowful calling, the expression of suffering in the ravens’ cries brought tears to Laelia’s eyes. She instinctively knew her friend was in trouble.

  Zote heard the plaintive cry coming from Laelia and saw her anguish. In a moment of kindness, he led Laelia through the cavern’s tunnels up to its mouth. There, on the ground, she saw a raven lying dead; his metallic-colored wings were folded neatly next to his side. It reminded her of the old black umbrella her mother made of bones and cloth. As she approached the bird, she realized her instincts were right; it was her friend, the old raven. Holding him close to her breast, she saw beads of tears had flowed from the raven’s eyes.

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  He had been with her since she was a little troll. Grief flooded her heart as memories raced through her mind. Her friend was always picking up objects that sparkled and glittered and flying away to hide the trinkets in his secret nest high in a white spruce. Laelia thought of how she used to scold him for stealing; she called him “her little feathered thief.”

  She was brought back to reality by his fellow ravens perched in a tall spruce just outside the cavern. The ravens, in their sorrow, were loudly proclaiming the loss of their friend.

  Laelia tearfully dug a small grave and gently placed the lifeless body on its side. The pebbles and dirt rattled on the raven’s feathers as she covered him with a blanket of soil. Laelia felt it was the loudest sound she had ever heard.

  As she worked to complete the burial, the grieving ravens left the spruce and flew in graceful acrobatic circles and rolls over the grave of their friend. In flight, their calls grew even louder as they repeated their sad song. Laelia sensed the surrounding sky and tall trees were mourning along with her.

  When she finished the burial and placed a headstone on the mound, Laelia silently stood and watched the ravens; she knew their nature. It was their farewell ceremony. In sublime unison, the regal ravens caught a thermal, gliding higher and higher. As she watched the ravens fly away, the sun gleaming off their black feathers, Laelia noticed the green moon was sharing the sky with the sun.