Raven's Sacrifice

Once Raven was white, from the tip of her beak to the tip of her tail and the points of her claws. Though she was a bird of the earth, her pale colouring meant she could mingle with the spirits of the heavens; the angels and daemons of the bright, bright skies; those from whose lips poetry sprang, and whose songs carried a beauty so exquisite all who heard them wept. Raven spent many a day and night with these beings, watching as they drank the sparkling waters from the Well of Inspiration, listening as they gave voice to their creations. Sometimes she joined with them, for hers was a sweet song, and many stopped to hear her music.

At that time, the men and women of the earth went about their task of surviving: hunting, gathering, reproducing. Raven was fond of these creatures and often hunted with them, alerting them to prey and sharing in their spoils. She saw how similar they were in appearance to the angels of the sky, and yet how dull their lives were without dance or song or poetry.

She wondered how this could be. How could two creatures look so much alike, and yet have lives that were so vastly different? She wondered; if the humans had access to the Well of Inspiration, would they write poetry and compose music as fine as their kin in the clouds? Would their lives be richer for it?

The next time Raven visited the spirits in the sky, she watched their well. There did not seem to be anyone guarding it, as many came to and fro, helping themselves to its contents.

Raven hopped closer, coming to rest on a stone at the edge of the well. An angel came by and Raven watched as he scooped up a handful of the water and brought it to his lips.

“Excuse me,” said Raven. “May anyone drink from the well?”

The angel looked down at her. “Only the spirits of this realm may drink from the well, pale bird.”

“But what is to stop others from doing so?”

He smiled. “The drink in this well is the Fire of Inspiration. It burns with a fierceness only those of this realm can withstand.”

Raven watched the angel walk away. She looked at the water. It did not look hot. She dipped a claw, breaking the smooth, shiny surface. It did not feel hot.

It seemed the angel was misinformed. Raven dipped her beak into the water, and scooped up a large amount of the liquid. It was thick, and lukewarm. Raven spread her wings and took to the air. She circled the sky realm, peering at those around her to see if anyone had noticed, waiting for someone to call out, to stop her. When no one did she tilted to one side and dropped out of the clouds, diving towards the humans of the earth.

The first sign of change was a warmth on the tip of her tongue. It was pleasant, not painful, and Raven ignored it, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on the humans so far below. Soon the warmth spread along her tongue and across the top of her beak. Her tongue tingled as the temperature rose and before long her beak seemed to sizzle. Raven’s heart rate jumped. Perhaps the angel was right. In desperation she opened her mouth, hoping the air would cool the ever-heating water, but instead the rush of oxygen ignited the liquid in a flash of blistering light.

Raven squeezed her eyes shut as flames scorched the feathers of her face. The fire boiled her flesh, and through the heat searing her nostrils Raven could smell the sulphurous scent of singed feathers. She refused to give up. Not far now! She flew faster still. But the faster she flew the more the flame blazed, until her wings and body and tail were engulfed in the fire spilling from her mouth.

At the first murmuring of a human, Raven opened her mouth to release the liquid. Squinting through stinging, tear-blurred eyes, she saw the liquid fall to the ground, setting alight the dry tinder on the floor of the clearing and splashing on nearby humans who began to scream in pain.

Raven hit the ground hard. She rolled and bounced and bumped her way along the cold hard ground, coming to a stop at the edge of a creek. Her beak burned still, and she pulled herself to the water’s edge, desperate for a drink to cool her tongue.

But when she looked into the water Raven stopped. The reflection showed a bird that was black, from the tip of her beak, to the tip of her tail and the points of her claws. She opened her mouth, but instead of her pleasant singing voice, the sound that rasped its way out of her damaged throat was a loud and noisy, ‘cawww’.

She turned, fear rising for the humans on whom she had inflicted this curse. They would need to get to the water, quickly. They would have burns that needed tending, they would—

But as Raven’s eyes focused on those who walked the earth, she saw no destruction. There was fire, but it was contained, and the people stood all around, feeding it branches and holding their hands out to its warmth. The screaming had stopped, and instead only the crack and pop of burning sticks filled the air. The fire grew; its heat and light providing solace against the growing dark.

As the first star twinkled in the sky a voice sounded out above the others.

“Gather round, and let me tell you a story…”

Raven’s heart soared.

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**Raven's Sacrifice was first published in "Stories of Hope" a charity anthology raising money to help those affected by the horrific bushfires that tore across Australia in early 2020.