Written by Shane Kroetsch
Mati sat cross legged on a gravel patch beside the road. She had positioned three black feathers in front of her, and was arranging small rocks along the wide vane of each. Jacob walked through the shifting cloud of the trucks exhaust to stand beside her, hands in his pockets. Mati stopped fussing with the pebbles, and leaned back to admire her work. She turned her head toward Jacob and tucked a stray clutch of dark hair behind her ear. “My Grandmother used to tell me a story about Ravens. Well, the first one I guess. How he created all the rivers and lakes. People had no water, so Raven had to steal it for them. His feathers used to be pure white, but he had to escape out a chimney or something, and the soot made him black. Ravens have been that way ever since. There are other stories. Raven is a joker or a pest. I like my Grandmother’s story though. He could have died, but he was brave and did what needed to be done. It makes me want to be like a Raven. To hold my scars on the outside, so everyone can see that I made it. Maybe know that they can too.” The wind picked up, scattering the collage of feather and stone. Jacob pursed his lips and shifted his gaze to the horizon. “Hey, we should get back on the road.” Mati stood and brushed the dust from the seat of her pants, “Okay, let’s go.” Comments are closed.
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