#swallowing light

[nymphatragicae-archives]

“ you’ve been mostly-dead all day. ” He sits down beside her bed (er… cot? It’s more of a cot. They carried her back to the camp for Donald to triage.) “It’s a good thing Terra and I found you when we did. You *might’ve* ended up fully-dead.” Riku raises his canteen for her to see. He imagines almost-dying is rather thirsty work. “Water?”

⚔ the princess bride sentence starters ⚔

Though she heard his words, they don’t truly register until he’s already halfway through the next sentence. “... What happened?” She didn’t expect him to know. Only bits and pieces were available to her. She deviated from the group. Protected some civilians. Then pain in the back of her head and pitch black. 

Something had gotten the drop on her.

Which she was not proud of. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all. What happened to the cautious woman she used to be?

“... Thank you. I owe you both.” Aqua pushed herself up to sitting position, despite the screams of protest from every muscle in her body. Where now she could see the cuts and bruises that covered her arms and legs wherever she was not bandaged up. She took a quick sip of the water, which eased the dazed feeling in her head...

“Where is Terra?”

[ahoneybird]

the tale of the black wolf and the raven

This story starts as every story in the history of humankind has started.

In the beginning, there is a child, and the child should be sleeping, but she’s not. And so, to guide her into the kingdom of dreams, her mother tells her a story, woven from those very dreams.

This is where she begins.

❧

"Once upon a time, there was a black wolf, who lived in the midst of a snowy wilderness with her brothers, White Wolf and Grey Wolf. And wherever White Wolf and Grey Wolf and Black Wolf went, also went the Raven who would sleep in the branches of the fir trees above the three wolves and take her share of their kills and carrions.

Black Wolf was not as big or as fierce as her brothers, and so she would always eat last. Her brothers even permitted the Raven to eat before her, for such was the way of wolves. Black Wolf was not always happy about it, but she was small and timid, so there was nothing she could do.

For a long time, Black Wolf envied the Raven, and would chase her alongside her brothers, nipping at the bird’s black tail feathers and flashing her white teeth fiercely. The Raven, though much smaller and weaker than any of the wolves, would not accept this quietly, but in her turn would tug at the wolves’ tails when they did not see her, or fly at them in quick swoops and then effortlessly soar into the skies, away from their sharp fangs.

It so happened that little by little, Black Wolf noticed that the Raven would tease her brothers particularly when they had treated their little sister poorly, and this made Black Wolf hesitate to join in when her brothers leapt at the bird to startle her into the air. And when Black Wolf stopped taking part in this, something else changed, too. Before, whenever Black Wolf had approached the Raven while she was feeding, the bird had flown at her, pecking and clawing until the wolf drew away to lick her cuts and wait for her turn. But now the Raven would carry on eating, as if oblivious to the presence of the Black Wolf. And so it happened that the two would share their meal without any squabbling, and both found that they got their bellies just as full as they had before. And in some strange way, it was quite nice to eat together with another creature.

When Black Wolf’s brothers noticed that she shared her meals with the Raven they so took pleasure in tormenting, they jeered and laughed at her.

"Sister Black Wolf, you are a wolf! A small and measly wolf, to be sure, but a wolf!" growled the White Wolf. "You should not befriend such a lowly creature as a parasite bird!"

"Sister Black Wolf, you are our sister! A weak and foolish sister, to be sure, but our sister!" barked the Grey Wolf. "You should not bring shame on your family in such a way!"

And upon hearing these words, the Black Wolf pressed down her head and whimpered.

"I am a wolf," she thought to herself. "That is true. And they are my brothers. And the Raven is a bird."

But that evening, as they fed on the scraps of a small rabbit - the only prey they had been able to catch all day - Black Wolf looked at the Raven who was pecking at a leg bone.

"She is a bird," thought the Black Wolf again. "But her feathers are as black as cinders, and so is my fur. My brothers have always teased me about it, saying my fur must be very dirty to be so dark but the Raven’s feathers are just as dark and yet they gleam in the light. My brothers growl at me if I try to feed with them, but the Raven will share my meal. Yet I am a wolf and she is a bird."

The Raven glanced up at the Black Wolf, and the wolf saw a glimmer in her eyes like sun catching on water, a glimmer of mischief, of warmth. And so from that moment onwards, in her heart of hearts, Black Wolf called the Raven Sister Raven, and she wondered if the glimmer of the Raven’s black eyes meant that the bird called her Sister Wolf in turn.

❧

That winter was colder than any winter before, and seemed to go on much longer than any of the three wolves could recall winter ever having lasted. At night, the cold would howl like a great beast through the forest, veiling everything in white, the ground and the trees and the fur and feathers of all animals. At night, White Wolf and Grey Wolf would press against each other to keep the cold at a distance. They did not invite Black Wolf to join them, and so she would curl up close to them where she could sense their animal warmth, but not feel their fur or the warm skin underneath.

There was one night, a night colder than all the others, during which the cold made waterfowl into ice sculptures upon a frozen lake and made weaker branches shatter like glass. During this night, the Black Wolf dreamt quick, broken dreams, the cold having sunk its fangs all the way to her bones, and dreaming, she felt a weight land upon her paws.

"Snow," she thought dimly at first, and knew that she should rise and shake it off lest she freeze in the long cold night. And yet her eyelids felt too heavy and her limbs too weak for her to get up. Another quick dream flickered across her mind, broken by another thought of snow. But then there was a warmth that slowly spread through her chest and her paws. With great struggle, Black Wolf opened her eyes, and there was the Raven, resting on her paws, its black feathers indiscernable from her black fur. And so Black Wolf let her eyes close again, and fell back into dreams, only now they weren’t shattered by the frost in her bones. When morning came and White Wolf and Grey Wolf rose and shook the frost cover off their fur, the Raven was up on a branch once more, but Black Wolf could see the bird’s dark eyes glimmer down at her warmly.

❧

The cold did not ease its grip on the wilderness where the wolves and the raven lived, and

day by day, their lives became harder. White Wolf and Grey Wolf used to run and play and chase each other, but now they did not even chase the Raven, only growled at her if she got too close to their prey. But more often, there was no prey at all. All they caught was skinny rabbits and bony crows. And when it was time for Black Wolf and the Raven to eat, all that was left was feathers and fur and pale white bones.

At night, too, the cold felt even more cruel, its icy clear chimes echoing in their empty bellies.

Black Wolf knew that they could not go on like this much longer, but she had no idea what they could do. She tried to ask her brothers but White Wolf would growl, “You are small and stupid, Sister Black Wolf! Don’t you realise I have been thinking about this a long time already!” But even so he would give no suggestion. And Grey Wolf would bark, “You are weak and foolish, Sister Black Wolf! Don’t you understand that I need time and quiet to complete my plan!” But he would not tell what that plan might be.

Black Wolf tried to be patient because it was all she could do, weak and foolish as she was, but the grumbling of her empty belly got too loud and the sting of the cold in her bones too sharp to ignore any longer. And so she went to the Raven who was sitting in a tree with her head under her wing, shivering against the icy breeze.

"Sister Raven, Sister Raven!" Black Wolf called, and only then realised what she had said out loud. Perhaps she should not have referred to the bird in such a way, but she needed her help so maybe it was okay.

The Raven opened her dark eyes and looked at the wolf kindly. “Yes, Sister Wolf?” she replied. Although wolves and ravens speak different tongues, the Raven and Black Wolf could understand each other quite well, for understanding is not as much a matter of words or sounds as it is a matter of wanting to share something.

"I am hungry and cold, Sister Raven," said Black Wolf, "and I know you are, too. There is so little prey here, because all the other animals are just as cold and hungry as we are, if not more so. And I fear that soon either the cold or the hunger will grow into a beast so great that it will eat us all up. We must do something before that happens, Sister Raven. But I am a small and weak wolf, and even my brothers who are bigger and more fierce have no answers. So I came to ask for your advice."

Black Wolf knew that her brothers would mock her and make fun of her if they saw her asking the Raven for advice, but even so, she stayed there, looking up at the Raven with pleading eyes. Her brothers were cold and hungry, too, she knew, even if they were too proud to ask for help. So she would do it for them, and for herself.

"Oh Sister Wolf," said the Raven. "I am afraid I don’t have any answers, either. As you said, I am just as cold and hungry as you are. But perhaps I could fly around a bit today and see if I can find any prey further away, or even any other animals who might have good advice."

And so the Raven shook the snow from her wings and took to the air, as Black Wolf thanked her, pressing her head down in gratitude.

❧

The Raven flew as far as she could, although with each flap of her wings, she could feel her body quickly growing tired and her empty belly feeling increasingly hollow. And everywhere she flew, she was greeted by the same sight. The forest was covered by a thick blanket of snow, the bare trees and dark conifers stood alone in this whiteness. There were scarcely any animals anywhere. Here and there were some tufts of fur or a few stray feathers from old carrions in the snow, but even the bones had been eaten.

Finally the Raven stopped on the branch of an old pine to rest, her wings aching and belly growling. How could she go back to the wolves with nothing to tell about but the desolate emptiness of the wintry forest?

As she sat there and pondered, a soft sound came from the pine. The Raven looked about her but saw no one. ‘It must have been the snow falling,’ she thought to herself.

But the sound came again and it didn’t sound like snow. The Raven looked about once more but still there was nothing there. ‘It must have been the wind howling,’ she thought.

And then she heard the sound for the third time, a soft whooshing sound, and the branch beneath her swayed as another bird landed next to her.

"Good day," said the Jay, nodding her head.

"Good day," replied the Raven, although thus far it had scarcely been a good day for her. The Jay folded her wings carefully and for a moment, the Raven stared at the other bird’s beauty, spell-bound. Compared to the sheen of the faint pink of a snowy sky, the pure white and the deep black, the glimmering sky blue, and the peculiar silvery stripe that ran along the Jay’s side, the Raven’s feathers seemed dull and shabby. They had rapidly lost their lustre as food had grown scarce, and now the Raven tried to smooth them with her beak, embarrassed to be seen in such a state by this shimmering, beautiful bird. The Jay chittered to herself, clearly amused.

Only then did it occur to the Raven how strange it was that the Jay looked so very healthy and well-nourished.

"Have you been well?" the Raven asked, figuring it was better not to mention food right away, for the fear the Jay would think her greedy.

"Oh, quite," nodded the Jay, rocking herself on the branch. "It is very cold, of course, but I have been comfortable enough." She gave the Raven an appraising look. "No offence, Raven, but it looks like this winter has not treated you too kindly."

The Raven lowered her head in shame, but then fluffed up her chest feathers and looked straight into the Jay’s sharp eyes. “You are right, Jay. There is little food left over the part of the woods where I come from, and I have been trying to find some more, but to no avail.”

"I see, I see," chirped the Jay, and jumped to a higher branch and flapped down again. "Of course, we are in the heart of winter, and food is scarce all around."

"Of course."

"But even so…" said the Jay, and looked at the Raven closely. It seemed that the Jay’s pale blue eyes could see through her feathers and under her skin, and there was a flicker of silver light whose meaning the Raven did not know. "It looks like you still have some strength in you, Raven. So if you are willing to leave behind your old home, I might be able to show you a place where you can fill your belly, and find shelter to make it to the other side of this long winter."

"Could you really?" asked the Raven in wonder. After all the barren expanses she had seen over her flight, the idea of such a place seemed impossible. And yet, the pale winter sun made the Jay’s feathers gleam and shine.

Clicking her beak, the Jay nodded, “I could, I could. You just need to come with me.”

But then the Raven realised something. “How far is this place you’d take me to?” she asked.

"Oh not far," said the Jay. "You’ll have the strength to fly there, I’m sure. And once there, you can eat your fill and become strong again."

The Jay’s words made the Raven’s belly groan in anticipation. But still the Raven persisted, “How far would you say it is by paw?”

"By paw?" the Jay’s words came in a laughing shriek, as this was the funniest thing she had heard in a while. "Why should we concern ourselves with such pathetic ways of getting about?"

"There is someone I’d like to come with me," said the Raven calmly. "My sister Black Wolf and her brothers White Wolf and Grey Wolf live in the part of the forest where I came from, and she, too, is hungry and cold." The Jay laughed in a high shriek and fluttered in the air.

"You are a bird!" the Jay shrieked, "You can scarcely have a wolf for a sister!"

"I am a raven and she is a wolf, that is true," said the Raven, and warmth rose into her dark eyes. "But we share our meals and our warmth in the bitter cold of the night. With my brothers and sisters, we would fight over every scrap of food, and we stayed in the same nest only until our wings could carry us away. Thus Black Wolf is my sister."

The Jay clicked her beak, and there was a flicker of silver in her eye as she looked at the other bird.

"You can fly to shelter, or even to a warmer land, Raven," said the Jay then. "But the wolf can only run. And she cannot run fast enough to escape the cold. Her brothers Grey Wolf and White Wolf are strong and fierce, and they may just survive this long, long winter. But the Black Wolf is small and weak and has no wings with which to fly. It would take her more than a day to get where I’d take you, and it is unlikely she would survive the night."

The Raven lowered her dark eyes to the ground far, far below.

"I shall not leave Sister Wolf," she said then. "No matter how cold it gets."

"It is not wise to turn down my offer," said the Jay and the Raven knew this was true. "You will not get another such offer in the heart of the winter, you must know that, Raven."

The Raven nodded, “I do know that. But even so, I will not leave Sister Wolf.”

The Jay chirped and twittered disapprovingly, and hopped from branch to branch. As she was almost at the top of the tree, the Raven expected her to fly away and not look back. But then the Jay fluttered back down and the silver feathers glimmered in the fading light.

"There is one way," said the Jay then, tilting her head, looking at the Raven appraisingly. "Or so I’ve heard. But it is not an easy way."

"I shall not leave Sister Wolf," the Raven repeated. "So do tell me?"

"Many times now," began the Jay, her pale eyes more piercing than ever, "I have heard the story of the golden bird. It is said that deep, deep in the woods flies a golden bird with a heart of molten gold. No one knows where exactly it can be found, but all say that you will know its song when you hear it. And it is told that if you hear this bird and chase it down and catch it and fight it and eat it up, the molten gold will flow in your veins and keep you warm forevermore."

The Raven could only croak softly, not knowing what to say. The Jay’s words alone made it feel like a ghost of that searing heat of the mysterious golden bird was spreading in the Raven’s bloodstream.

"But there is no guarantee that you’d find the bird, even if you looked," said the Jay, shifting restlessly on the branch. "And it might well win you in a fight. And I don’t know how safe it is to eat such a fiery creature, either." Her eyes met the Raven’s once more, and this time they were more silver than icy blue. "But of course, if you wish to save that wolf, you might not have any other choice. I am sure that if you had that hot liquid gold running in your veins, you could easily share your warmth with another. And yet it might be too dangerous a task…"

"I will help Sister Wolf," said the Raven, her dark eyes like black forest ponds, "any way I can."

The Jay nodded her head, and hopped from one branch to another. A glimmer of something like delight crossed her eyes. “Well then. That is all the advice I can give you.”

She glided across the air smoothly. “Come down with me, Raven, I shall give you something for your journey.”

And the Raven followed the Jay to the forest floor where the Jay scraped at the snow until she uncovered something brown and gleaming - a pair of chestnuts.

"Have one, Raven," she said, "for your long journey. May it bring you hunting luck."

And with those words, the Jay gulped down one of the chestnuts and was in the air again, soaring towards the darkening winter sky in a blur of pale pink, pure white, cinder black, sky blue and silver.

The Raven carefully picked up the chestnut and ate it slowly, cherishing its buttery taste that reminded her of crisp, brilliant autumn days. She could feel how her body regained its strength again, and each beat of her heart sounded strong now that she knew what she would do. First she would fly back to Black Wolf, to tell her about the hunt ahead of her, and then she would find the golden bird and kill it and eat it. Despite the Jay’s warnings, the Raven felt certain that she would succeed. After all, it was the only way. And with that thought, she began her journey back home across the darkened sky.

❧

When the Raven finally found the three wolves, they were all asleep already, White Wolf and Grey Wolf curled around each other, and Black Wolf nearby, shivering, dreaming restless dreams made brittle by the cold. And so the Raven just settled on Black Wolf’s front legs, pressing her head against the wolf’s chest, and fell asleep listening to her rapidly pounding heart.

The Raven had intended to tell Black Wolf the Jay’s tale as soon as White Wolf and Grey Wolf had set off in an increasingly desperate search for prey, but she never got the chance. The wolves where still sleeping when a distant sound pierced the Raven’s dreams and brought her back to the wintry world.

At first, the sound was pale blue like the sound of a flute, or like the chiming of icy branches. But slowly it grew, became rich and heavy like honey, like the songs of the most modest-looking birds sung in the heart of summer, the songs that entwined with the sweet scent of ripening and rot, of the most brilliantly burning life and the glimmering darkness of death hidden in its core.

Although any other day, she would only have marveled at the strange sound that was utterly ill-suited for the bare winter forest, this morning the Raven knew at once what it was: it was the song of the golden bird.

Restlessness spread through the Raven in a burst of heat. She needed to go. She needed to hunt down that bird and eat it up and let the summery warmth of its song fill her body.

The Raven tugged at Black Wolf’s tail with her beak, but the wolf only flicked it in her sleep. The Raven grasped onto Black Wolf’s paw with her claws, but the wolf only shook her off. Finally, the Raven whispered to Black Wolf with her hoarse voice, “Sister Wolf! Sister Wolf, you must wake up!”

Beside them, White Wolf and Grey Wolf stirred in their sleep, but the Raven would still not be quiet. “You must wake up, Sister Wolf, quickly!”

And Black Wolf slowly blinked her yellow eyes and yawned deeply, revealing all her sharp teeth. With bleary eyes, she looked at the bird in front of her. “Oh Sister Raven, you have returned. What’s the matter?”

The Raven hopped restlessly on the ground, for she could feel the song tugging at her soul with its promise of life starting anew. “Can you hear?” she asked Black Wolf, fluttering so that her wings created a small flurry of snow. “Can you hear that sound?”

Black Wolf pricked up her ears, and in the distance, she could hear a sound like a flute, a birdsong that brought to her nose the scents of summer. “I can.”

Up on a branch of a fir tree, the Raven stared off into the dark tangle of trees and her black eyes glowed a strange light.

"A bird who sings with such a voice must be a golden bird with a heart of molten gold!" croaked the Raven. "When I catch her and eat her up, her golden heart will glow in my chest and it will keep me warm forevermore and I shall never feel the bitter cold of winter again!"

Black Wolf stared at the Raven with wide eyes, but the Raven did not see, for she was still staring into the depths of the forest where the wondrous singing echoed from, frozen on her branch with awe.

But then, as if awakening, the Raven jumped on her branch, scattering some snow on the Black Wolf’s fur, and then flew down to her in a graceful circle.

"Once I have eaten that heart of molten gold," said the Raven, looking at the Black Wolf with her night-dark eyes, "I shall sleep pressed up against your chest and I shall keep us both warm."

And with this promise, before Black Wolf had a chance to respond, the Raven took to the air again, and flew into the woods, towards the faraway song, and Black Wolf watched her in wonder until her black feathers melted into the dark branches and the shadows of the forest.

❧

The winter continued to rule ruthlessly over the forest, and every day it seemed that there was less to eat, and so each night seemed colder than the last. Even White Wolf and Grey Wolf would shiver in their sleep and dream dreams that were brittle with ice. Each day, Black Wolf would spend a long time staring into the depths of the forest, waiting to see a dark shadow moving through the branches, a flick of a black wing.

But the Raven would not come.

And finally, Black Wolf knew she had to do something. The idea frightened her - she was small and weak and all she knew was that the Raven had followed the mysterious song into the depths of the forest. And yet she could not wait any longer.

"Brother White Wolf, Brother Grey Wolf," she said. "I must go. I must try and find the Raven." Black Wolf was careful not to call the Raven her sister, even though in her heart of hearts she always did.

"You cannot go look for the Raven," said White Wolf. "She has probably flown away to a warmer land and left us to the cold and the hunger. You may have been kind to her, but she knew that your kindness was weakness and so she left you here."

"Even if you ran after her, you could not find her," said Grey Wolf. "The Raven has wings and you only have your feeble legs. Where she has gone, someone like you cannot follow, and she would not want you to do so anyway, seeing that she has left you here. If you go now, you will not find her and you will only get lost and thus lose us, too."

"It is true that I am weak and wingless," answered Black Wolf. "It is true I don’t know where the Raven went and even if I did, I could not fly after her. It is true I may not find my way back to you if I leave now." And something was burning in her chest, something that made her hold her head up high and gave light to her yellow eyes. And fearlessly, Black Wolf continued, "But the Raven shared my meals and my warmth. She is my sister and I must look for her."

And with those words, the little Black Wolf headed into the forest where she had seen the Raven disappear. For a long time, she could hear her brothers’ howls mocking her and calling her back, but she would not turn. Her brothers had each other, but the Raven had no one in the world. ‘She said she would come back and share her warmth with me,’ thought Black Wolf, ‘so I cannot leave Sister Raven alone in the cold.’

❧

Black Wolf ran and ran, ran the whole day, and went deeper into the forest than she ever had before. All around her, she saw only endless expanses of snow and the wide trunks of the trees that towered far above her. On a rare occasion, she would see a small rabbit or a vole skitter away, but they always disappeared before she could leap at them. Nowhere did she catch a glimpse of a black wing, and nowhere could she hear the distant song that had sounded like summer. Every now and then, she howled to call the Raven, but the only reply was the echo of her own voice calling back like a ghost.

As the darkness had nearly fallen, only edges of the sky still the pale pink of a winter sky, Black Wolf slowed to a trot and then finally to a walk. Her limbs ached and the emptiness of her belly seemed to echo. Running had kept her somewhat warm for a long time, but now she could feel the cold dripping into her bones.

Black Wolf looked around her, and only now did she fully realise that she was all alone deep in the forest, far from anyone and anything she had ever known. She could feel fear creeping up her chest like a spider, whispering the words she had heard so many times, You are neither strong nor fierce, Black Wolf. You are small and weak. And this time, it added another thing, And you are all alone.

"Sister Raven!" she howled once more, but this time, too, only the echo of her own voice answered.

Black Wolf fluffed up her fur and forced herself to hold her head up high. ‘I may be small and weak,’ she told herself, ‘but even so, I am a wolf.’

And so Black Wolf walked onwards in the fading light, determined to find shelter for the night. Tomorrow she would continue her search. Tomorrow she would find the Raven and maybe even the golden bird.

Black Wolf made herself brave, but bravery could not fill her stomach or keep her warm. And so, the farther she walked, more tired and weary she felt, and the shivers ran along her back like rain.

Finally, when her legs felt like they could carry her no farther, when her eyes had grown clouded, when the cold had settled deep into her bones, she saw a large boulder in the middle of a clearing. ‘I will settle right by it for the night,’ thought Black Wolf, ‘and it will shelter me from the snow.’

And so, with her quivering legs, eyelids already growing heavy, she walked towards the big brown boulder.

And at that very moment, the boulder opened two brown eyes and looked right at the wolf.

Black Wolf had thought she could not freeze any more, but now she found that her paws had frozen to the ground. She could only stare back at the boulder as it looked at her and then began to grow, slowly, until Black Wolf could not even see the moon anymore.

'It's not a boulder,' she thought, although this should have become quite apparent moments before. And next, 'It's a bear.'

Indeed, it was a bear. A giant bear, each of its paws the size of Black Wolf, its maw so huge it could have swallowed her in one gulp. Black Wolf remembered how White Wolf and Grey Wolf had sometimes attempted to steal some of a bear’s meal, and how she had watched from the distance, terrified. The bears had seemed so humongous, then, dwarfing her brothers who dared to play such games only because they were swift, and because the bears would not chase them far. And yet those bears that had so scared her could have been little cubs compared to the one that now stood before her, its hazel eyes locked onto hers.

A sound filled her ears, like a woodpecker drumming a hardened tree, like the first rumbles of thunder. It took a moment before Black Wolf realised it was the sound of her own racing heart.

She wanted to run. She wanted to run as fast as she could, go right back to where she had come from, where she had lived all her life, to go back to her brothers who were stronger and bigger and more fierce than she was, who knew how to be brave.

If she ran very fast, perhaps the giant bear would not follow her. After all, she would only be a mouthful, and she was more fur and bone than meat.

Her feet twitched, seemingly breaking free from the ice. She would run, run back home and ask for her brothers’ forgiveness, and forget she had ever left the safety of her familiar corner of the forest.

Black Wolf was about to turn on her heels when she remembered the Raven.

The Raven had flown into the forest, away from everyone and everything she knew, in hopes of catching the golden bird and keeping both herself and Black Wolf warm until spring.

'I cannot leave Sister Raven.' It was the truth. Much as her paws wanted to run, much as her heart tried to beat its way through her ribcage, she knew she had no choice. She had shared her meals and her warmth with the Raven, and she could not turn her back now.

And so Black Wolf held up her head and looked at the mountain-like bear in the eye and held her ground.

As she looked at the bear, her fear was mixed with another feeling, a strange, compelling feeling. She knew that the bear could have killed her with one lazy swing of its paw, that it could have swallowed her in one bite, but even so, she found herself thinking that the bear was beautiful.

It was huge and old, its fur had greyed here and there, and it breathed in heavy puffs of air that felt like a warm summer wind. Yet somehow, this huge old animal seemed to possess a light, a peculiar, warm light that made the whole beast glow. The snow had melted where she had rested, and there was moss visible on the ground.

Black Wolf stood there, her legs quivering, and she could not tear her eyes off the bear.

"What are you?" asked the Bear then, her voice like a rumble of an earthquake. She sniffed the air and squinted at the wolf. "A little fox?"

"No," said Black Wolf, and her voice was shaky with terror and awe. "I am a wolf."

The giant bear laughed, “A wolf? What a tiny little thing you are! I could eat you up and it would be like having swallowed a fly by accident.”

A small whimper escaped from Black Wolf’s muzzle.

The Bear laughed again, louder, and the wolf could feel the ground tremble beneath her feet. “I have no need for such an unsatisfying snack, little wolf!” she said. “I have not come here to feed anyway.”

It was only then that it occurred to Black Wolf how strange it was to see a bear in the heart of the winter. “Why have you come, then?” she asked.

The Bear chuckled which sounded like a soft growl, “Oh, aren’t you straightforward, so soon after you wanted to run away with your tail between your legs. But it is okay, little wolf, I shall tell you why I am here.”

Black Wolf sat down, even though she could feel the cold rising from the snow and filling her, little by little.

"I am a bear, as you can see, and, unlike you wolves and other sorry creatures, we bears have the wisdom to sleep through these heavy, exhausting winter months and awaken only when the sun kisses the plants awake and brings life back from paralysis.

"So of course, any other winter, I would be deep asleep in my cave, dreaming sweet dreams of summer. And yet I am here," the Bear sniffed at the cold air, raised her eyes to the sky where tiny glimmering ice crystals kept falling from. "As you can see, little wolf, I am a big bear, and I am an old bear. I have seen countless ages pass, I have seen saplings become huge trees and then grow hollow and fall. I have seen mountains shift and rivers dry up and spring elsewhere. I have seen most things in this world except for winter. And so I have now come to see winter before I die."

"Before you die?" asked Black Wolf in wonder. Old as the Bear looked, she also seemed to be full of life and strength, glowing like a small winter sun in the night of the woods.

"Yes," answered the Bear, nodding her heavy head. "I suppose you could say that I have come here to die. I want to see the winter, watch the snow fall, see what the forest looks like when it’s the closest to death, to feel the cold in my bones. From every summer I lived, I have one summer dream left. Each one of those dreams will take me through one moment of a winter night, and so, once I have dreamt all my sweet summer dreams and seen the world in this one dress that is still unfamiliar to me, I shall die."

"How will you die?" asked Black Wolf, shivering at the thought of death, at the way the frost was claiming her limbs and her bones and her chest.

The Bear replied, “You see, my soul is a small brown pebble, and my ancestors told me that the golden bird will come and collect it, and she will drain all the light from my veins, and return it to the flow of life.”

Black Wolf’s ears pricked up, “A golden bird?”

"That is what my ancestors told me," said the Bear, her hazel eyes reflecting a golden light. "That a golden bird will come and take the pebble that is your soul and all the light inside you, and that is how life ends and how new life begins."

Black Wolf struggled to make sense of what the Bear was telling her and what the Raven had said before she flew away. “What else does this golden bird do?” she asked.

The Bear frowned, “What else? I don’t know. This story is all my ancestors ever told me.”

Black Wolf could feel worry twisting in her empty belly. If even this ancient bear knew so little about the strange golden bird, then why had the Raven thought she could hunt the strange creature down and eat her like any regular prey? Black Wolf wished that the Raven had not left so suddenly, that she had not simply made her intentions clear, leaving Black Wolf with a debt she would have to run through the darkest winter night to repay.

"My sister Raven," Black Wolf began hesitantly, thinking it was best to be honest with a beast as great and old as the Bear, "she flew off to seek a golden bird. She said it had a heart of molten gold. She said that she would hunt it down and eat it up and would then be warm forevermore… And would keep me warm as well." Black Wolf felt a prick in her chest. "And days ago, she heard the golden bird singing in the heart of the forest, and she flew away and I haven’t seen her since."

The Bear looked at the small wolf closely. “You are not quite as you seem, little wolf,” she said softly. “Sister Raven, huh? And you are here to look for her?”

"Yes," said Black Wolf, her eyes dark now. "She is all alone, and she is my sister so I must find her."

"And did she tell you anything else about this golden bird? Or even where she might have learnt that one can hunt and eat it?" asked the Bear.

Black Wolf shook her head and shivered.

"There is not much advice I can give you, little wolf. All my ancestors ever told me about the golden bird was that it would come find me and that it would take my life with it, but nothing of the opposite," said the Bear.

Black Wolf hung her head, and if she had momentarily forgotten about the cold, she could feel it now, spreading through her bones and her bloodstream and into her chest. The Bear could sense it, too.

"You must rest soon, little wolf," she said softly. "I can see the flame of life in you, and it’s about to go out."

Black Wolf felt her pounding heart, and each beat felt like a birdwing against her ribcage, light and quick and weakening.

Though the Bear was giant and beastly, her eyes were kind. “Little wolf, if there is one thing I have learnt over the course of my long, long life, it’s that everything has its time. For most it is but a short time, for some just the blink of an eye, a beat of a heart, a raindrop falling on the ground. For others, like me, it is a long time, a time that sees trees grow and fall and countless beings be born and die and be born as something else once more. And for yet others, like the highest trees and the rocks and the hills and the sun and moon and stars above, it is so long that even my stay here seems like someone passing by.

"You, little wolf, must know what I know. Your time is drawing to a close. It’s going to be a long, dark night, and you are skinny and not very fierce and your blood does not burn bright enough to keep out the cold.

"If I tell you to set off now, if I turn my back to you and growl when you try to approach me, you will die tonight, little wolf. And maybe it should be so, for everything has its time. Yet I am an old bear and tonight is not like all the other nights. Today I want to see the first winter of my life, and let my summer dreams burn like will-o’-the-wisps until morning. And tonight I see how you want to live and how you want your sister Raven to live, and so this once, I shall help you.

"So come little wolf. I will not growl at you or drive you away. I will not eat you up. Come and curl by my side, and I will give you a gift. You can have three of my summer dreams, one to see you through this night and to the morning, for you are small and my dreams will last longer for a creature so young and small. And two others to keep and burn when you truly need them."

Black Wolf looked up at the giant beast in wonder, and still, the Bear’s hazel eyes were kind. “Come now, little wolf,” she said once more. “Come and let a sweet summer dream take you to the other side of this night.”

With careful steps, her limbs stiff with cold, Black Wolf approached the Bear, and she could feel the glow of the Bear as a gentle heat from a distance away. And so she went to the giant beast and pressed against its side that was warm like a furnace.

"Sleep, little wolf," said the Bear, and as soon as she had said that, Black Wolf’s eyes closed and her head felt heavy and she could feel herself beginning to drift. As the twilight of that space between dreams and awake cleared, she could see a golden stream of light entering her. She understood it was the Bear’s warmth, her life, and right then, a sweet summer dream blossomed before her. There was a field of high grass, air full of birdsong and the humming of bees, warm sunlight on her fur, and life flowing like a stream all around her. And there Black Wolf spent the long, dark, freezing night, safe from harm.

❧

When Black Wolf woke up, the world was crystalline and glimmering in the light of the sun that was peeking from behind a snow-heavy cloud. Black Wolf could not recall when she had last slept this well. Her body felt strong and warm, the wonderful scents of summer still lingered in her mind, and she stretched her back and yawned widely.

"Good morning, little wolf," said the Bear. If the Bear had been an impressive sight in the dark night, she appeared even more formidable now. Black Wolf stared at her in wonder, barely able to comprehend that such a humongous creature could even exist, let alone that it would be kind enough to help someone weak and small like her through the night. And yet it did and it had.

Black Wolf bowed her head down, “Thank you, Bear. You have been very kind to me, and I shall never be able to repay your kindness.”

The Bear laughed and her laughter sounded like an avalanche, “You are right about that. But I have lived for countless ages, and it is now time for me to give instead of receive, to give and let go, so worry not, little wolf. Soon it will be your turn.”

If she had heard the Bear’s words any other day, Black Wolf would have been frightened, but strengthened by the Bear’s summer dream and the simple fact that she had made it this far, Black Wolf merely accepted the ancient beast’s words, knowing them to be true.

"As you slept soundly, little wolf, and sucked the marrow of my summer dream which was so much longer for you who are so small and young," said the Bear as Black Wolf stretched and shook herself, only to find that the Bear’s warmth had melted the snow on her back. "While you dreamt, I thought about what you said, about your friend, and the golden bird."

Black Wolf’s eyes lit up with hope, but the Bear shook her huge head slowly. “I do not know anything more about the golden bird than what I have told you, I’m afraid, for that is the only story my kin ever told.”

The light in Black Wolf’s eyes was growing dimmer and she sat down on the snow.

"But I have thought about it. And as far as I can tell, the golden bird must be a ward of life. And while I do not know of any other such creatures, I do know one from the flipside…" The Bear’s eyes darkened and her fur bristled, and once more, Black Wolf was awed by how huge and powerful the Bear was, how tiny she herself was in comparison.

"Even deeper in this forest, there is a hut. And in that hut, there lives a human. Or at least it looks like a human but I am not so certain…" The Bear looked somewhere past Black Wolf, past the snow, past this world.

"I met her once," she said then. "She was smaller than you are now, little wolf. I did not think anything of her, I was hungry. And it is true that other humans drove me away, making loud noises, causing the air to crackle and smell bitter, but even so, I did not ever expect to encounter her again… I did not think that even humans could heal in such a way."

The old bear looked far away, somewhere where the dark branches of the fir trees melted into the dark sky, and beyond.

"There is something strange about her. A cold breeze around her even in the most searing summer. It is true that she looks human enough," she said after a brief silence. "But it could be she is a god of some sort. It is rare for gods to take on a human form, for why would they want such an inconvenient body. But if she is a god, she must be a god of death. So who better to ask about that golden bird of life than her?"

The Bear’s words made Black Wolf feel uneasy. She had seen humans only once, from afar, and then even her brothers, who were bigger and more fierce than she was, had run as fast as they could, and she, of course, had followed them. Approaching a human did not sound appealing, let alone one that might be a god. And yet…

"You can seek your sister Raven by yourself, of course, and perhaps you’ll find her, and perhaps you’ll even find the golden bird. But if you want to do something other than wander aimlessly, this is the best advice I can give you," the Bear finished. And Black Wolf knew she was right. If she did not take this chance, she would be just as lost as she had been before she had met the Bear. So she ignored the way the fear in the pit of her stomach was pulling her to run away, and instead asked, "Where can I find her?"

Golden light flickered in the Bear’s eyes, “You may be small and not very fierce, little wolf, but you are brave and your heart is strong. I am glad I gave you my summer dream to let you live a little bit longer.”

The Bear explained where the human’s hut could be found, and Black Wolf thanked her profusely, and then set off again, strengthened by the sweet dream she had dreamt and by the warmth she had shared with the Bear.

☙

Once more, Black Wolf ran and ran, until her limbs ached and lungs burned. And then, she heard it.

The sounds were the first thing that let her know that her search was over. The chirping, growling, chittering, yelping and croaking. The swish of wings, the scrambling of paws. They were all sounds she had only heard in the Bear's summer dream lately, and breaking the wintry silence of the forest, they seemed both exhilarating and eerie.

Black Wolf slowed down, and on soft quiet paws, she approached the menagerie that was making all this sound.

When Black Wolf entered the clearing, she stopped at her tracks. There was the hut the Bear had spoken of, but it was not the human construction that had captured her attention. It was everything around it.

There were chaffinches fluttering about a small rowan tree, there was a fox eyeing at a vole from a distance, a greylag goose on the porch with its head under its wing, a starling landing on the branch of a fir tree, a hedgehog emerging hesitantly from under the stairs, and a jay watching the wolf closely from a tree.

Black Wolf could feel her belly churning and growling, and saliva rose in her mouth, but the strangeness of it all made her fur stand at end, made her heart pound and her paws drag, and even hunger could not overpower the feeling of unease.

But of course, feeling uneasy was inevitable. After all, if the old bear had been right, this was the domain of a god of death, so it was only right to be frightened. Yet now that she thought about it, she felt increasingly confused. This certainly did not look like the dwelling place of a death deity, quite the opposite. Surprised as Black Wolf had been to see a bear - let alone a giant one - in the forest in mid-winter, that was barely strange at all compared to this. So many of the animals skittering and flying about here usually slept through the winter or left the cold forest behind altogether. And even if they did not, this winter had been hard on all creatures. Many were struggling, living on scraps of food, scraps of warmth, just like Black Wolf was. Many had lost their fight, just as she would have, had the Bear not helped her. And yet here, all the animals seemed to not be bothered by cold or hunger.

'Though I suppose that is what death is like,' thought Black Wolf slowly, 'not feeling cold or hunger.' The thought chilled her more than the air. If she truly had come to the land of the dead without noticing its border, then how could she know if she herself was still living? She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and its steady rhythm comforted her a little.

Focusing on each step, she slowly made her way towards the hut. The other animals peered at her closely and then gave her way, their sharp eyes never leaving her. A jay swooped past her face in a blur of pale pink and a glimmer of silver. Black Wolf forced herself to keep walking calmly.

'I may be small and weak,' she thought, 'but I have made it this far. And I will find Sister Raven.'

On careful paws, she approached the hut, and on careful paws, she climbed up its stairs, one after another. The goose peeked out from under its silver-streaked wing, but settled down again as though Black Wolf were not there at all.

Finally, the doorway stood in front of her. The door was open, and inside, Black Wolf could see darkness, and a glimmer of light in its midst. It could be that her paws quivered slightly as she stepped inside, and then farther.

The first thing Black Wolf saw inside was a huge dark beak, moving atop a tall dark body. Her first thought was that someone had enchanted the Raven, giving her this monstrous form, but then it occured to her that the eyes were like two cave mouths, empty and dark, and this was a dead head, even though it moved.

She felt a growl rumbling in her chest and only just managed to bite it back. She peered at the creature more closely.

The creature had hands, not wings or even paws, and in those hands it held a metallic tool whose tips glowed dimly. Before it, spread out on a table was something it was examining carefully, and picking at with the pincers. By the creature's feet, there was a bucket full of snow. 

In the twilight, Black Wolf could only just discern the shape of whatever there was on the table, but, recalling what the Bear had said, she realised it was a bird, the golden bird, surely.

Whenever a feather fell from the creature's pincers into the bucket, the snow hissed at its touch and melted away. For some time, Black Wolf watched this strange ritual, this creature picking fiery feathers off the corpse of the golden bird.

Finally, a sigh echoed through the hollow beak, and the hands laid down the pincers and pulled off the bird head, a mask. 'This must be the human,' thought Black Wolf. 'Or the god.'

It was a human woman, with dark hair and dim eyes, and on the woman's neck, Black Wolf could see wide silvery pale stripes, scars stretched by years. She could recognise the mark of a bear paw, and shuddered at the thought of such a strike, and shuddered more to think that this human could have survived it. It should have been a fatal blow, surely, and had the Bear not said that this human had been but a child when she had encountered her? Any child, let alone a human child, should have died at once, but somehow this woman stood before Black Wolf now, scarred but alive. Perhaps she truly was a god of death.

Because she had not fled despite her fear, Black Wolf could get a better look at the golden bird now, too. She had imagined the golden bird to be like a pheasant, a big bird with magnificent feathers, but the dead bird spread on the table was small like a sparrow and the gold was just a faint glimmer in the winter light.

Black Wolf watched as the woman twisted her black hair at her neck, and put the mask on once more. Now there was a sound like a branch breaking made by the pincers, followed by a series of such cracks. When they finally stopped, the pincers were holding something the size of a plum stone, shining so brightly that its glow lingered in Black Wolf's eyes even when the woman dropped it into a jar which she carefully sealed. 'It must have been the heart of molten gold,' thought Black Wolf.

All this time the woman had been completely engrossed in examining the dead bird, but now she pulled the mask off her head once more, and her clouded eyes looked straight into Black Wolf's. Black Wolf could feel the fur on her neck bristling, her limbs tensing. 

'I may be small and weak,' she whispered in her mind. 'But this human has the golden bird that Sister Raven sought. And I will not abandon Sister Raven.'

"Hello, little wolf," said the woman, and her voice was like honey, sweet and compelling. "What have you come here for?" As the woman took a step towards Black Wolf, Black Wolf took a step back, and soon they were standing on the porch again, out in the brisk winter air. "Are you hungry, little one? Are you cold?"

"I am!" said Black Wolf. "But that is not why I'm here. I'm here to find my sister Raven!"

The jay that had flown past Black Wolf before now landed onto the woman's shoulder and chirped in her ear.

"So you are looking for a raven, are you, little wolf?" the woman asked, kneeling down and reaching out her hand as a show of trust. But Black Wolf looked at the silvery scars across her throat and stayed back. If the mighty bear had been unable to slay this human, then a weak and small wolf like her would not be able to defend herself.

"Be not afraid, wolf. I can help you," the woman said, and still crouched down, she took a step closer to Black Wolf.

"How can you help me?" asked Black Wolf, and the jay chirped into the woman's ear.

"I have seen a raven," the woman replied, smiling, and it seemed like her eyes became even more cloudy. "And I know where you can find it."

Black Wolf's ears pricked up at this, and she inclined her head in wonder. Could it really be that this strange woman living in the midst of the woods knew where Sister Raven was? If she truly were a god, surely that would be possible, because after all, gods were supposed to know most things about the world.

"Please show me where she is!" Black Wolf barked, and the woman's smile curled up the corners of her mouth.

"I will," she said, and Black Wolf felt relief like a warm wave washing through her. At last she would find Sister Raven. At last her scary and lonesome journey would come to an end. Even though she was still wary of the human, it seemed like if she were a god, she was a benevolent one. And didn't that make sense? After all, all these animals had gathered near her hut, and they all seemed happy and healthy.

And the woman headed behind the hut with the jay fluttering right by her, and Black Wolf followed them, her heart brimming with the joy of soon being once more reunited with her dear sister.

"Here we are," said the woman with a voice clear like glass bells as she stopped by the edge of a small, frozen pond. 

Black Wolf looked up at the sky, looked around to try and discern the dark figure of the Raven on the branch of one of the bare trees surrounding the pond. But there was not a wing nor a beak nor a feather in sight.

"Where is Sister Raven?" asked Black Wolf, inclining her head. "Did she say she would come here?"

"Oh, she's right here," said the woman, and now Black Wolf saw that her long, thin fingers were pointing at the pond. 

Now Black Wolf began to feel uneasy. On careful paws, she approached the pond, slowly, slowly. Glancing at the woman to make sure that she was not going to attack, Black Wolf stepped to the edge of the pond and peered in. And there, underneath the glass-clear surface of the ice was Raven, frozen in place.

With widened eyes, her fur bristling and her black lips pulling back to reveal her teeth, Black Wolf stared at the blind, open eyes of Sister Raven. "What have you done to her?" she growled.

The woman's voice was still just as clear and calm as the ice upon the pond as she replied, "Oh, fear not, your friend shall live again. It is just that when I found her, she was quite poorly. So I sewed up her wounds and I put her to sleep under the ice, so that she will not die before I can fix what is wrong with her. You should not be angry, little wolf, you should be grateful." And at this, the jay gave a shriek to confirm what the human had said.

"Get her out!" Black Wolf growled and barked. "Let Sister Raven free!" She pawed and clawed at the icy surface of the pond but her paws only left faint marks across it.

The woman shook her head gently, as though at a misbehaving child. "I cannot do that just yet. First I need to work on the molten heart of the golden bird, for only that can save the raven. Only that can save all of us."

Black Wolf did not understand what the woman intended to do with the golden bird, but this all made her feel uncomfortable and scared and angry. Again she pawed at the ice that captured Sister Raven. "Help her! She does not look alive! She looks dead!"

"She will be alive again," the woman said. "But you must be patient, wolf. It is not yet time."

And then the woman crouched down again, and looked into Black Wolf's eyes with her clouded ones. It felt like those strange eyes could see right into her core, could see the little pebble that held her soul. "Oh little wolf," the woman said, her voice sweet like the scent of poisonous flowers. "You have a long wait ahead of you, and you look so small and weak. Surely you must be cold and hungry. Come back to the hut with me, and I will help you, and soon you shall have your friend back."

Black Wolf glanced at the Raven again, her empty eyes, her frozen body, and all she wanted to do was to crush the ice, to dig her out and run away. But Black Wolf had seen frozen animals before, had seen rabbits beneath the ice, swans that had become stuck by their feet as they'd slept. And she knew no way to revive them, or even help them while they still lived. The cold would have them, that is what always happened. And she could not let that happen to Sister Raven, not if there was anything she could do to help it. And there was a strange light in the human's dim eyes, and so Black Wolf followed her back towards the hut.

"Come, little wolf, come closer," said the woman, sitting down on the stairs, and the sleepy goose flapped down, its wings flashing silver, and settled by the woman's side. "Come on, do not be afraid. Wouldn't you like to fill your belly and be warm? Wouldn't you like it if you never had to be cold or hungry again?"

Black Wolf could feel her belly rumbling, could feel the cold in her bones, and the woman's words seemed compelling like a warm bloody meal. And yet there seemed to be no warmth or blood to her. She was pale, and the only sign of blood were the long scars across her throat, and even their silvery colour reminded Black Wolf more of the ice that encased the Raven.

"Wouldn't you like to never feel pain again?" the woman asked and reached her pale hands towards Black Wolf who took a tentative step closer. But then wind shook a tree above them, and some snow fell on Black Wolf's back, and it broke the spell.

Had the Bear not said that she thought the woman might well not be human but god? Had Black Wolf herself not believed that? And if she were a god, then surely she was a god of death. Had she not wondered if it was the domain of death she had entered when she came to this place? This thing that the woman was talking about, this existence with no cold and no hunger, no pain, it had to be death, or else eternal life, and surely the two were almost the same.

Black Wolf looked about her, at all the animals that had gathered by the hut. They were all silent now. They were all looking at her, a faint silvery light in their eyes. How could they still be alive? How could a hedgehog be out in the heart of winter? How could a fox have found food when she and her brothers had not?

Black Wolf took a small step back, and it felt almost as if the snow had been burning her paws. Another step. The jay fluttered to the lowest step. Another step. The woman reached behind her. Another.

"Where are you going, little wolf? Surely you don't want to be hungry and cold? Surely you won't abandon your sister Raven?"

That was when the Black Wolf turned on her heels and ran. The thought of Sister Raven weighed heavy upon her heart, but even with that weight, she had to run. She would do what she could to help her, but she could not break the surface of the ice, and she could not wait until this strange woman, this fearsome god, would decide it was time. And so Black Wolf ran.

As soon as she had turned on her heels, the woman had pulled out the quiver and the bow which she kept beneath the stairs. and now she drew it, and a silver arrow whistled through the air.

It sounded like a bird flying past her. The shadow of the Raven flashed in Black Wolf's mind, and then she thought it would be the jay, come to take her back. But it was not a bird at all. A delicate, sharp silver arrow flew right at her, striking her shoulderblade.

Black Wolf fell to the snow from the sheer force of the hit, and for a moment she rolled, attempting to shake the attacking bird off. Only then did she realise it was not a living thing. As her back touched the ground, she could feel the fletching sticking out of her shoulder.

'I am going to die,' thought Black Wolf in terror. 'I am small and weak and I have been struck by an arrow. And now I'm going to die here alone, hungry and cold.' And she lay down in the snow, still, waiting for the scarred woman to come and finish her off, waiting for death to come.

But death did not. In fact, Black Wolf felt okay. She had been so scared that hunger and cold had left her body for a moment. Now she stood up tentatively, testing her legs. Easily, they carried her. She shook herself, and could still feel the fletching on her back, but it was more uncomfortable than painful.

'How lucky I am,' thought Black Wolf, joy awakening in her heart. 'Even though I was struck by an arrow, I am still alive. It must have missed my heart and my guts. How lucky I am.'

❧

That whole day, Black Wolf paced around in the woods, first going this way, then that, and then this again. 'I am small,' she thought to herself, 'and weak. Surely there is nothing I can do against such a mighty enemy as the human-god who governs death and life in the heart of winter.' This thought was as clear as a mountain spring, and it should have made her mind just as clear. It should have explained why she had no choice but to run, to run back to her brothers and see if they could make it through the winter somehow. Or die. But then Black Wolf thought of the Raven, and the heavy weight of that thought almost crushed her heart.

'I cannot leave Sister Raven,' echoed in her mind, and although she tried to counter it with, 'But I have no choice! I am but a small and weak wolf, there is nothing I can do!', it would not go away, and it would not quieten.

While Black Wolf struggled with these thoughts, night fell, and in the dark, she knew the struggle was over. "I shan't leave Sister Raven," said Black Wolf to herself, to the forest and the night around her. "I promise that."

There had been no sign at all of the winter relinquishing its grip on the forest, and thus Black Wolf knew what awaited her at home: more hunger and cold. Even her strong and fierce brothers had been ailing when she had last seen them, so how on earth could she, a small and weak wolf survive this harshest of winters? And if she were to die either way, would it not be better to die by her sister's side, by the side of the sister who had lost her own life to keep them both warm? And so, in the heart of the night, Black Wolf returned to the pond behind the human-god's hut.

❧

On careful paws, Black Wolf approached the pond. The hut was quiet and all the animals seemed to be sleeping, but even so, Black Wolf glanced behind every now and then, for the fear that the scarred woman would appear and finish what she had started. Black Wolf could still feel the fletching embedded in her shoulder, but it caused her no pain.

And so Black Wolf came to the edge of the pond, and peered in. It seemed to her that the Raven had moved somehow, even though a thick layer of ice still covered her dark body, and her empty eyes were still staring up towards the surface, towards the sky where she had spent most of her life, free. Surely it was not possible to move in such a place, and surely it was not possible to move once you were dead. It must have been simply the silvery glow of the moon that was playing tricks on Black Wolf.

"Oh Sister Raven," sighed Black Wolf. "I wish I had told you not to go after the golden bird. I wish I had asked you to stay. We could have huddled together for warmth, and hunted and scavenged together, and shared what little scraps we could find. Perhaps we would have died together, but at least it would not have been like this, it would have not been as cold and lonely as it must have been for you, to die beneath that ice. It would not have been as cold and lonely as it will be for me, to lie down here on this freezing night and wait. Oh Sister Raven."

And so Black Wolf lay down, her head and front paws resting on the ice, the rest of her body resting on the snow. 'I will not leave Sister Raven,' she thought sleepily to herself. 'I won't.' And her head began to feel heavy, her eyelids leaden and sleep began tugging at her, calling her to its embrace. Only then, a flicker of light crossed her mind. Black Wolf opened her eyes and looked around, but there was only the dark pond, the forest around it, the human's hut, lit by nothing but the pale glow of the moon. Her eyes closed once more.

Sleep had blurred any thoughts Black Wolf might have, but then she heard a distant sound of chirping. She lifted her head and pricked up her ears and listened, but the only sound was the sorrowful howl of the wind that reminded her of the howling of her brothers. She lay her head down again.

Sleep had made Black Wolf forget about the ice and the snow and the wind, but then a rich scent of ripeness reached her nose. She lifted her head and sniffed, but all she could smell was the steely scent of winter. She lay down her head again. 

'What can this be?' wondered Black Wolf, lying on the snow and the ice with her eyes closed. 'Why do these things haunt me when I am about to die? Where does that light come from? Or the sound or the smell? Or is that what death is like? What a strange thought that is. Then death would be almost like summer.'

It was that thought that fully awakened Black Wolf, that made her lift her head, prick up her ears and filled her eyes with light. 'The summer dreams that the Bear gave me! Oh Sister Raven, if only I could have given one to you.'

It was right then that a warmth rushed through Black Wolf's body, that a light kindled in her chest. To her own amazement, she found that her chest was glowing a light much warmer than the silver light of the moon. And finally something appeared from the midst of her cinder black fur, a light like a star against a black sky. It was a glowing fluff of pollen that emerged, floated in the air for a moment, and then drifted down to the ice, beneath which the Raven remained, frozen. And at its touch, the ice melted like a single snowflake against a warm muzzle.

And as the glowing pollen, only a tiny spot of light now, fell upon the brow of the Raven, her empty eyes closed and then opened again, and as her blood began to move once more, she sputtered and flapped her wings and scrambled out of the pond.

"Sister Raven!" barked Black Wolf, scarcely believing her eyes. The Raven hopped onto the ice and shook the water and the ice shards off her feathers, blinked once and again, and finally raised her eyes to Black Wolf.

"Sister Wolf!" she croaked, her voice hoarse from her long stay beneath the ice, from all the time she had spent not breathing. "How are you here? How did you find me?"

"It's a long story!" Black Wolf replied, and she could feel the salt of tears stinging her eyes. "But how are you alive? I thought you were dead for sure. I thought I would die tonight as well."

The Raven hopped to the snow, raised her wings and her feet, took a beakful of snow and swallowed it down. "I don't know," she said slowly. "It must have been something you did, Sister Wolf."

"I gave you a summer dream from the old Bear," Black Wolf told. "But she said it could only help one through the night. She said nothing about bringing anyone back from the dead, and if I understood everything she was saying, I don't think that would be something she'd approve of doing, either."

"And yet I'm alive," said the Raven and hopped some more and flew a little and examined its body which clearly was not dead, moving as it had always moved.

Black Wolf looked at the Raven closely and it appeared that she was healthy and whole. She sniffed at her, and she smelled like a bird, with just a tinge of the sharp scent of ice still lingering in her feathers. She listened closely and heard the scratch of the Raven's claws and the swoosh of her wings. But there was another sound, too, a strange sound. Black Wolf pressed her head against the Raven's chest, and there it was.

It was not the steady pounding of the Raven's heart that she heard, but another kind of a sound altogether. There was a click and a whirr, a sound like some human machinery, like a clockwork echoing in the Raven's ribcage.

"Can you hear that?" whispered Black Wolf, and they both listened. And yes, there it was, steadily repeating, a whirr and a click, again and again. "What is that?"

"I think it was something that human did..." said the Raven slowly. "I can't really remember anymore. There was the golden bird and then... Oh, I'm not sure."

Black Wolf furrowed her brow. "But you feel okay?" she asked. "You are not in pain?"

"Oh, not at all!" answered the Raven. "I feel as good as new!"

"I don't really know what that noise could be, but I can think of someone who might," Black Wolf said after pondering a moment. "The old Bear is surely the oldest and wisest animal in the entire forest. She was able to point me to the right direction, so perhaps she also can figure out what has been done to you."

The Raven nodded her head and something in her chest clicked a little faster, "We should go see her, we should!"

And so Black Wolf and the Raven headed towards the forest. Black Wolf looked up at the bird flying above her, and her own chest felt tight. "I'm very glad," she said then, softly. "I'm very glad that you are alive."

"I am, too, and I am ever so happy to see you once more," replied the Raven. "I'm just sorry I could not catch the golden bird for you, Sister Wolf."

❧

A long time they journeyed, so long that the Raven's wings began to feel heavy and Black Wolf's paws seemed to sink into the ground. But just before she was about to suggest that they'd rest for a while, Black Wolf began to recognise her surroundings and knew the Bear was somewhere nearby. As soon as she realised that, something else caught her attention.

She must have been so focused on keeping her paws moving that she had shut everything else out. The sound must have started out distant and faint, but now it was everywhere. It was the chirping of birds, dozens there must have been.

Black Wolf slowed down, her ears pricked up. The Raven noticed this and fluttered down. "What's wrong?"

"That chirping," Black Wolf replied. "I think it may be the human and all those animals that had gathered by her hut. We need to be careful." Last night by the pond, Black Wolf had been ready to die, but as the sky had paled with morning light while they journeyed, the last traces of her sense of defeat had evaporated along with the darkness. She wanted to live now, and wanted the Raven to live, and that's why they had to stay as far away from the human-god and her silver arrows as they could.

Slowly they approached the spot where Black Wolf had last seen the Bear, and, surely enough, there she was. With her back to them, the Bear looked like a brown mountain rising from the snow, huge and unwavering. Still a few steps, a few wing flaps closer, and Black Wolf and the Raven realised where the chirping was coming from.

All around the Bear, on the bare tree branches, on the ground, in the air, there were sparrows, chirping and chirruping. They were on the Bear, too, standing on the mountain of her back, on her paws. Black Wolf and the Raven stopped, hesitant. Black Wolf had not seen any sparrows in the human's yard, but that meant little. And there was something strange about this flock of birds, something that kept the wolf and the bird from going any closer. They could have easily have leapt there, scattering the flock into the pale morning sky, but it seemed somehow wrong.

"Bear!" barked Black Wolf, but the Bear did not reply, did not turn around. And then, with a long howl she called, "Bear! Old Bear! It is me, little wolf! Bear!" 

The only reply Black Wolf got was the chirping of the sparrows.

But then a branch cracked behind them. The Raven swooped into the air, and as soon as she'd spun around, a shriek sounded from the canopy of a nearby fir tree, "They're here, they're here!"

"The Jay!" the Raven croaked, recognising the bird who had risen to the air. 

"Yes!" Black Wolf called, "It's one of the human's birds! We need to get away from here!"

Forgetting all about the Bear and the sparrows, Black Wolf and the Raven bolted off. All around them, the air suddenly filled with cracks and flaps and shrieks and stomping and growls.

"Don't run, little ones," the woman's voice called from somewhere behind them, sweet like too-ripe fruit. "All that awaits you ahead is cold and dark and hunger! All that you can find is an endless winter! Don't you run! Come back to me and you shan't feel any pain and discomfort any longer! Come to me and you needn't fear a thing! Oh come, little raven, and I'll give you a good nest. Come, little wolf, and you can stay with your friend!"

"I think she is a death god of some sort," Black Wolf panted. "We mustn't listen to her!"

"Oh little wolf, you are so small and so weak." It was hard to tell where the voice was coming from anymore, it seemed to be all around them, and all around were the animals, swooping and dashing, visible between the trees like glimmers of silver, like stars. "And this winter is so long and cold, surely you shall perish. Oh little raven, you were so brave for your friend, and now you're taking her to her death without a thought!"

"Don't stop," Black Wolf yelped when she could see the Raven slowing down, hesitating. "Don't listen to her! Just keep flying!"

"Soon we'll have them," shrieked the Jay somewhere above. "Soon, soon, soon!"

Black Wolf and the Raven picked up the pace, but all around them, silver flickered by the dark trees. The Raven could feel the click and whirr in her chest growing louder, quicker which each flap of her wings. 

Right as they had put some distance between them and the human-god and her animals, they found that a lake stretched out before them, its snow cover blown off by the freezing wind, leaving only an expanse of dark ice.

"What do we do now?" Black Wolf whimpered, coming to a sudden stop, staring at the frightening stretch of ice with her ears flattened against her head, her tail between her legs.

"We need to go forward," the Raven crowed, anxiously glancing back. "We have no choice. I'm sorry, Sister Wolf, I know it is frightening for you."

It was. Black Wolf looked helplessly at the frozen lake and fervently wished she had wings. But alas, it was not so. And so, with hesitant paws, she began to walk. She slipped and scrambled and all she wanted to do was to turn back, to plant her feet firmly on the snow-covered ground but she knew she had no choice. The Raven was right: they had to go forward.

All the while the Raven fluttered above her, keeping watch and encouraging Black Wolf to keep moving. But then the sound of whatever was clicking in her chest, the sound of all the animals coming after them, of the Jay's shrieks and the human-god's calls and their own panting were drowned out by another sound.

It was the sound of the ice cracking beneath Black Wolf's feet. Black Wolf whimpered and stopped at her tracks, but she was too far along already. Another loud boom sounded as the ice cracked further. "What do I do now?" yelped Black Wolf. "Is this how I die?"

A distant memory crossed the Raven's mind, a memory of white, of the time she had spent beneath the ice. And without knowing how she knew this, she said, "It's okay. When the ice breaks, go underneath it. You can hide there when the animals come. I will fly as high up as I can, and I will come get you when they're gone. You will be okay."

Black Wolf was scared, she wanted to ask how the Raven knew this, how on earth was it possible that she would not die if she dove into the icy water, how she could ever breathe again if she inhaled her lungs full of ice. But there was no time, the ice was shattering into slivers beneath her feet, and no matter how she tried to scramble and hang on, she was slipping.

And then Black Wolf fell. Her paws sought for a firm foothold to no avail, and soon she slid into the icy water. It seemed that everything stopped. There was the grey sky above, and slivers of ice, and then the dark water. And then just darkness and nothing more.

❧

The darkness was everywhere. There was nothing but. Black Wolf herself had melted into the dark, become a part of it. That was fitting somehow. Her fur was black as night, so surely it wasn't such a huge change to become pure darkness. It certainly had not felt that way. It had been the easiest thing, slipping in and losing her outlines.

But now something pierced through it, something called her back. Black Wolf opened her eyes which she did not remember closing, and saw something moving above, distorted by a layer like glass between them, and then finally breaking through. It was her dear sister Raven, hacking away at the ice with her beak and calling her.

"Sister Wolf!" the Raven cried, her croaks more hoarse than ever from having called for Black Wolf again and again. "Oh Sister Wolf!" She flew a spiral of joy and relief as she saw Black Wolf scrambling out of the lake and onto the firm ice once more. "Come, follow me, the human's animals are all gone, and I know a route that will carry you!" The Raven flew towards the shore, glancing over her shoulder with every wingbeat to make sure that Black Wolf was still following.

Panting, Black Wolf finally reached the sturdy ground. 

"Are you okay, Sister Wolf?" asked the Raven, landing in front of her, peering closely at the wolf with her beady black eyes.

Black Wolf nodded, still breathing hard. "I am now, yes. Are you sure they are all gone?"

"They are," the Raven confirmed, still examining her companion. "They ran into the forest on the other side, the woman with them. The lake froze over again after you had fallen in, so they did not think to look for you there. Thank goodness I managed to break the ice once more. I worried you would be trapped there for good."

Black Wolf listened carefully for animal sounds, for cracking branches or swooshing of winds, for the woman's voice, but she could only hear the howl of the wind and the strange mechanic sound coming from the Raven's chest.

"You do not look like Black Wolf," said the Raven, causing Black Wolf to forget about the strange sound. 

Black Wolf inclined her head in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Look at yourself."

When Black Wolf looked down, she saw what the Raven meant. Her wet fur had frozen completely, and instead of black as night, it was now white as snow, whiter than even White Wolf's fur had ever been. It glimmered in the fading light. Even when Black Wolf shook herself, her fur remained icy white and brilliant, only sparkling as she moved.

As Black Wolf marvelled at her new colouring, the wind howled louder than ever. And then she realised it was not just the wind. Before, too, the sound had reminded her of her brothers, but now she was sure it was not just a memory lingering in her mind. It truly was her brothers' voices, White Wolf's wild call, Grey Wolf's mournful howl, calling together with the wind. Black Wolf raised her muzzle to the skies and replied with a long, strong howl.

"What are you doing, Sister Wolf?" asked the Raven. "What if the animals hear us?"

Black Wolf hadn't thought of that. "It's just that I could hear my brothers calling."

The Raven thought this doubtful but did not say anything. It was no wonder that Black Wolf would long for her brothers, after all she had been through. "I think we should set off again," the Raven said, trying to forget the fact that she did not know where they should go, did not know if there was anywhere to go at all.

And so, for some time, they journeyed onwards in silence, Black Wolf still trying to catch her brothers' voices upon the wind. After some time, when the lake was already far behind, they heard footsteps coming towards them. They looked at each other. The woman and her animals had headed in the opposite direction, so it seemed unlikely they would have been found, but you could never be too careful. And so they waited, Black Wolf staying as still as she could, the Raven quietly hopping to a higher branch, hoping to catch a glimpse of the approaching figure.

It was Black Wolf who smelled them first, however. She gave a gleeful howl and dashed through the thicket that separated her from the approaching animals.

"Brother White Wolf!" she barked. "Brother Grey Wolf!"

When the Raven flew there, she saw the three wolves, Black Wolf leaping in joy, the other two eyeing at her warily. They were smaller than the Raven had remembered, slight and mean-looking.

"Who are you?" asked the white one, his fur standing up on his back. Black Wolf looked at him in surprise and settled down.

"I'm Black Wolf, of course, your sister!" she replied.

White Wolf narrowed his eyes at her. "How could you be Black Wolf? Even we have become skinny and weary from the hunger and the cold, and she was small and weak. We've had each other and she set off alone. Surely she is dead by now!"

Grey Wolf stood by his brother's side, his teeth showing. "How could you be Black Wolf? She was dark as though she'd been rolling in filth all day, and you're so white you almost make us snowblind. Surely that sorry sister of ours has long since died!"

Black Wolf looked from one brother to the other in disbelief and whimpered helplessly. "But I'm Black Wolf! I'm your sister! How could you not recognise your own sister!"

Still the two wolves looked at her with narrowed eyes, walked around her, examining her suspiciously. "You cannot be her. You do not look small and weak. Your fur is not black. And our sister must be dead, because we almost are," said White Wolf firmly, and Grey Wolf growled in agreement.

The Raven swooped down from her branch, landing between the wolves. "What about me, then, White Wolf and Grey Wolf? Do you not know me, either?"

"Oh you!" White Wolf barked. "I do know you, Raven! Is this some trick of yours, then? Are you trying to get back at us for what we did to you? For chasing you and making you wait to eat? And because you couldn't do it yourself, you had to get this big wolf to help you? Is it even a real wolf, or is it a ghost? I've not seen a wolf whose fur would glimmer like stars, who would thrive even in this endless winter."

Black Wolf couldn't understand how her brothers could not recognise her, nor why they would think her so strong. It must have been just the frost in her fur that made her seem like that. Though now that she thought about it, it was true that she did not feel hungry or particularly cold. Perhaps it was the Bear's summer dream that was still sustaining her?

Suddenly both White Wolf and Grey Wolf let out a low growl. Their fur bristled at their shoulders, their teeth gleamed, but even so, Black Wolf could see that they were much smaller and weaker than they had been before.

"I want nothing bad for you, brothers, even if you don't know your own sister," Black Wolf yelped, but her brothers kept growling, and she could see that slowly, slowly, they were trying to get away.

"What is that then?" Grey Wolf asked. "This is your trick, isn't it, Raven?"

Black Wolf furrowed her brow and glanced around her, but then the Raven croaked, "The human!" and suddenly Black Wolf could see all the flickers of silver around them. They must have heard the howling after all, and now they were everywhere around them. The Raven shot to the air, landing on a branch in the shadow of an old pine, watching everything.

"What a coward you are, Raven, to have gathered such a troop just to have your revenge!" White Wolf growled up at her, but his voice was coloured by fear. 

Now Black Wolf's fur bristled, too, as she stared at the woman approaching, the animals slipping in the shadows around her.

"Oh, what fine wolves you are," the woman said with a honeyed voice, approaching slowly. Black Wolf noticed the quiver of arrows and the silver bow hanging on her shoulder, and she could feel the fletching in her own shoulder blade. Her body stiffened and she knew running would not be possible.

"Come here, come here," the woman called to White Wolf and Grey Wolf, crouching down, offering her hand as she had with Black Wolf. "You look cold and hungry, you poor things. Come to me, and you will not feel cold or hunger any longer. Come on, dont be afraid."

Grey Wolf looked at White Wolf questioningly, and White Wolf sniffed at the woman, staying where he was. "Why would you offer us something like that? What would you get in return? Surely you would not do such a thing in the midst of a harsh winter if there wasn't something in it for you," said White Wolf suspiciously, and the Jay that had been riding upon the woman's shoulder chirped a translation into her ear.

"Oh, little wolf, you needn't worry," the woman said softly, and took a small step towards him. "You see, I have plenty, and I can see you have little. I don't ask for anything in return. Although, if you want to help me, I won't say no."

White Wolf's yellow eyes stared at the woman fearlessly, even though Black Wolf could tell that really he did not feel fearless, that he felt scared and threatened and small and weak. "What kind of help would you need, then?"

"Oh it's very simple, little wolf, and you needn't worry," the woman smiled, moving closer still. "Why don't we first make sure you no longer feel cold or hungry?"

"No, I want to know first," White Wolf said, and Grey Wolf growled in agreement.

"Fair enough. As I said, it's very simple: I'm looking for this bird, you see." Black Wolf could feel her fur bristling, chills running along her spine, and she forced herself not to glance up at the Raven. "It's this black bird, a raven. I think it's probably with a black wolf. It stole something from me and ran away, you see."

Now White Wolf's eyes flashed, and Grey Wolf yipped excitedly, as though it were time for a hunt. Black Wolf felt like ice was spreading through her chest. She wanted to beg her brothers not to do it, not to say anything, but how could she when they did not even know her? How could she, when they already thought the Raven was up to no good? How could she when the woman was offering them a respite from cold and hunger, and all she could offer was her gratitude?

White Wolf had always been the most clever and suspicious of the three wolves, and so now he said, "Maybe we could help you. But how do we know what you offer is real? What if you're trying to catch us unawares and kill us to make yourself a wolf fur coat?"

"Little wolf, the things you say!" the woman laughed, but there was an edge to her voice. "I thought I'd made you a kind offer and this is how you receive it! Very well, then. Look around you, little wolf."

White Wolf and Grey Wolf both looked around, but Black Wolf kept her eyes firmly on the woman, even though she could see flickers of silver here and there beneath the dark trees. 

"All of those are animals who have accepted my kindness," the woman said then, her voice now soft once more, compelling. "Look at this jay," she continued, gesturing towards the bird still perched on her shoulder. "Look how gleaming its feathers are. Look how round its belly is. Look how happily it helps me, even though it's perfectly free to fly away when it wishes."

The woman whistled, a long clear whistle, and some of the other animals came closer from the shadows. "See that hedgehog? See the fat goose? See how all these animals have made it through this harshest of winters, and they're happy and healthy. That's what I can offer you, too."

"But how is that possible?" Grey Wolf asked the question both the other wolves and the Raven had been wondering. Now a smile spread across the woman's mouth, a smile you might have after a good hunt and a beautiful kill, sated, almost mischievous.

"Well, I don't know quite how I should explain it," she said softly, absent-mindedly stroking the silver bow on her shoulder. "You see, for most creatures, death is an absolute. It is inevitable and invincible. There's no way to escape from it. For you, for example, little wolves. You may have once been strong and fierce, but now the cold and hunger have made their home in your bones, and you are growing weaker and wearier day by day. You can run and you can show your teeth and growl. Death will have you either way."

Grey Wolf and White Wolf had their ears pulled back, and their tails were threatening to curl between their legs. Black Wolf could see that they wanted to charge at this woman, that they wanted to make her swallow her words, but they could not, because they knew the truth when they heard it, even if it was an ugly truth that they'd rather forget.

"This is how it is for most creatures," the woman continued. "For that is the way of the world. But not for me. For me, it has never been an absolute, not even when I was but a babe, unaware of the dangers of the world. I met one of them, one terrible beast, and I should have died, but I did not." Her fingers brushed over the scars that crossed her throat. "Now here, as I said, I'm not sure how I should put it. God is such a tricky term, but I'm no witch or fairy, either. Let's just say that your life and death are in my hands. That I have power over death. That I can give you life that knows no hunger or cold or pain, just as I have these creatures around us. A life that knows no death. Is that not what you wish for?"

"That is death!" barked Black Wolf, unable to hold her tongue any longer. For the first time, the scarred woman turned her eyes to her.

"Oh, I was waiting to talk to you," said the woman, her eyes sharp now. "You've not known such hunger and cold as most in this forest have, so you cannot comprehend that it is no life to endure such pain."

"But I have!" Black Wolf cried, only to realise that the human was fooled by the frost in her fur, just as her brothers, and did not recognise her.

"I doubt it," the woman said, examining her. "You are not a regular wolf at all, are you? You're a spirit. Is that why you disapprove of what I'm doing for these animals? Because you were never offered such a chance while you were alive?"

"No," Black Wolf growled, and she found that she felt big and fierce. "I disapprove of it because it's death you're offering. A living death, that's all!"

"And is not a living death better than a true death? A cruel, horrible, painful death that will utterly render you apart, that will destroy you, that will rip you to shreds and send you into the darkness?" the woman hissed, her hand curling around her neck.

There was a change in the light, then. Black Wolf wasn't sure if night had fallen while she had been under the ice and now they'd reached morning, or if it had just been a temporary darkness, a thick blanket of clouds. However it was, now a gentle morning light suddenly illuminated the forest, making the scattering of snowflakes blown off the branches by a breeze look like falling stars. Black Wolf's fur, too, twinkled in the light and she raised her head to the skies in wonder. 

Black Wolf met the Raven's eyes, and then they both looked up, towards the pale skies, and among the scatter of snow, they saw a flock of sparrows descending. They reminded Black Wolf of something, and then the memory returned to her, those sparrows all around the old Bear.

The flock fluttered down, and their chirping voices filled the air.

"That is not Death," twittered the sparrows.

"Death is not grand, Death is not beastly."

"Death is small, Death is commonplace, Death is simple."

"We are Death."

"We are, we are. We are the dead."

"Death is small. Death is the twin of Life."

"Death is Life."

  As they landed, they all turned their attention to the scarred woman.

"You did not die, but you are not Death."

"You did not escape, you are only playing hide-and-seek."

"What they gave you was not immortality. What they gave you was prolonged life."

"What you give is not immortality. What you give is life forced to outlast itself."

"That is not Life. That is not Death."

"We are Death. We are here to return life to Life, to return the dead to Death."

Now one of the sparrows flew up, and the woman stumbled back. 

"Stay away from me! I will not go!" she cried, and Black Wolf could smell her fear. She'd smelled fear on prey animals and dying creatures before, but never had the scent been this strong.

"We are not taking you into an unknown. You will only return, and then return once more," chirped the sparrows softly.

"Do you not hear that even your mechanical heart has quietened?" said one that had flown by the woman's chest.

"Do you not think it is time to let go?"

"To loosen your grip?"

"To return to the stream?"

"I don't want that horrible darkness anymore! I don't, I'll do anything, I--" Now she wept, and as she wept, she crumbled to the ground, and she looked like an animal, small and weak, weary from hunger and cold and from the trials of life.

"That darkness was not Death," chirruped a sparrow and approached her in small hops.

"That darkness was the voices of those who could not watch you die."

"It was the spirits that held onto yours, so as to not let you slip away, who bound you to a machine that kept alive a body that knows no hunger or cold, no pain, no life."

"The stream of Life is light. It's time to go back."

And the woman wept, one hand curling around the silvery scars on her throat and then pressing against her chest, where nothing moved, where there was no steady beat or even a clicking sound.

"They killed a golden bird to keep you, but life must return to Life."

"You killed a golden bird to stay, but life must return to Life."

"You killed a golden bird and now spring has not come, will not come, because the stream runs dry, and Death cannot give anything to Life, nor Life to Death."

"Would you not like the winter to end?"

"Would you not like to go from dark to light?"

"Do you not miss life?"

And the woman wept, and she was a little girl, alone in the forest, facing a beast that she could not hope to fight. And softly she said, "Yes." And then again, "Yes."

The flock of sparrows rose to the air and landed upon her and for a moment she seemed to be nothing but a flurry of pale wings. As the sparrows left her, she fell to the ground, and a sound like a machine falling into pieces came from her chest and the silver drained from her scars. 

"It has been a long, harsh winter," chirped the sparrows, turning to all the animals who'd been taken from death by this woman who had been taken from death by humans.

"It has been a long harsh winter, and in winter, Death roams to land, to deliver the dead to Life, so that the winter may end and spring may come."

"We are Death."

"It is time for this winter to end."

"It is time for life to return to Life. The dead to Death."

"It is time."

There were a few animals that tried to run, a few that growled or shrieked or fought. But as the sparrows flew out, most of the animals stayed still and waited. They were weary from the dark and the endless winter. Weary from not feeling hunger or cold or blood running through their veins. And so they welcomed the sparrows which flew upon them, and the silver faded from their feathers and fur as the last flicker of life faded from their eyes.

The only sound in the forest was the chirping of the sparrows, and the sound of droplets falling as the snow began to melt.

White Wolf and Grey Wolf were cowering together, tails between their legs, looking at the sparrows fearfully.

"You can go," chirred the sparrows. "You are the living, we are Death. We shall meet one day, when your life will return to Life, when your light will leak out of you and back into the stream, but it is not yet time."

White Wolf and Grey Wolf glanced at each other, and then they slowly began to make their way into the woods, their footfalls uncertain at first, then growing surer, relieved, until finally they ran joyously, feeling their pounding hearts, the blood rushing through their veins.

Black Wolf, too, turned to go.

"Not you," chittered the birds. "You may be disguised but we know you."

One of the sparrows touched Black Wolf lightly upon the forehead, and at that moment, the frost in her fur melted and she looked like herself again, black and small but no longer weak.

Now the Raven flew down from her perch where she had been watching all this unfold. "There's still some silver on you."

Black Wolf tried to see what the Raven meant, and then she remembered the human's silver arrow whose fletching was still stuck on her shoulder. "Oh that is only a fletching!" she said, relieved. "That woman tried to shoot me but it only hit my shoulder."

Now the Raven was standing in front of Black Wolf, and she raised her inky eyes to look at her friend. "Sister Wolf," she said softly, with a quiet voice, a voice that was coloured by weariness, by sorrow. "Sister Wolf, it may have been worse than you thought."

Black Wolf saw the Raven looking at her chest, and now she lowered her own head. And there, amidst the night dark fur on her chest, was the silver arrowhead.

"But I..." she breathed. "But that's impossible. That would mean it went through me. That would mean I'd be dead."

"Sister Wolf," said the Raven and now she was weeping. "Do you feel hungry? Do you feel cold?"

Black Wolf's paws began to tremble. Surely it was just the excitement and the fear that had made her forget about hunger and cold? It couldn't have been long that those constant companions had been gone. And she thought and she thought, and then she knew. It was when the human had lured her with sweet promises that she'd last felt her stomach gurgling, that she'd last felt the icy wind echo in her bones. And then she'd ran, and the arrow had flown after her and pierced through her body and made her not-dead and not-alive.

"I am so sorry, Sister Raven," said Black Wolf, and she, too, was weeping. "I'm sorry, for I must leave you."

"There is one more thing," chirped the sparrows then.

"Yes, one thing. The most important thing."

"The golden bird."

"The golden heart."

"Life that runs as gold."

And now the sparrows all turned to the Raven. 

"Silver might keep that last flicker of light from leaking out..." they cheeped.

"...but gold is life, golden light, golden heart."

"Even machines aren't eternal."

"Nothing is eternal."

"Everything breaks and disintegrates and becomes something else."

"And so the silver human's clockwork heart broke."

"And so she needed to make another."

"From molten gold."

"From the molten gold that is life, that is the light  that the golden bird collects from the veins of those who are about to die, to return to the flow of Life."

Black Wolf remembered the old Bear's words. How she'd been waiting for that very same golden bird, to come collect her life.

"She needed this gold to make a heart."

"To put in the chest of someone else."

"Someone strong. Someone fearless."

"Someone who did not think of her own quick animal heart."

"She needed to keep that someone close. To keep that golden clockwork heart where she could feel its warmth."

"And you chased a golden bird."

"And you wanted to share its warmth."

"And she caught you both."

"Opened your chests and made a clockwork heart to replace your animal one that quietened so soon."

"But life needs to return to Life. Light back to the stream."

"So that spring may come."

"So that life may blossom once more."

"It is time for spring."

"It is time for you to give up that gift."

"To return it where it belongs."

The Raven bent her head, but Black Wolf could not stand there and watch.

"Let me pay the price instead!" she cried. "I will happily give you the silver arrow in my chest if you let Sister Raven live."

"Silver is not gold," chirped the sparrows.

"Gold is not silver."

"Please!" said the Black Wolf. "I beg of you!"

"You cannot pay for gold with silver."

"You cannot exchange ice for fire."

"We cannot fix the hole the arrow will leave."

"It cannot be fixed. You cannot be healed."

"And it is only returning the dead to Death, the light of life to Life. Nothing more."

Black Wolf could not bear the thought. If it were not for her, the Raven would still have her own quick bird heart. If it were not for her, the Raven could have flown away to a warmer land and lived long, lived happily somewhere far away. It was only because she had wanted to share her warmth with Black Wolf that she was here. And now she would have to pay for her kindness with her life. Black Wolf could not accept it. But what could she give the sparrows? If giving her life was nothing more than paying a debt, what else would she have to give? What to exchange for a life?

"Even just a little bit, just give her a little while longer," Black Wolf wept. "She is my sister and she has been nothing but kind to me, and I've done nothing for her. Just give her little longer."

"It is time. Winter must end. Spring must come," chirped the sparrows.

"The dead to Death, life to Life."

"It is time."

"Just a little..." whimpered Black Wolf, and then she remembered. She could give the Raven one more day, and if spring came, perhaps that day would be enough, perhaps life would fill her up once more and she'd be saved.

"I have a summer dream," Black Wolf said. "It will take her through a night, won't it?"

"A summer dream?" said the chirps as the sparrows communed amongst themselves.

"A dream of summer."

"You are right," they confirmed then.

"You can give your summer dream away, if you do not desire one more day."

"And we shall return you to where you came from. To where you've always been going."

"Thank you," said Black Wolf, and this time her tears were tears of joy. She turned to the Raven now who was staring at her, speechless. "Thank you, Sister Raven. I can never say thank you enough. I am glad you were in my life. I am glad I shared my food and warmth with you. I am so glad." And now the glimmering light of the old Bear's last summer dream rose from where the silver arrow was embedded in Black Wolf's chest, and it sunk into the chest of the Raven who could feel cold and hunger once more, who could feel life rushing into her.

"You have done well, little wolf," chirruped the sparrows.

"It is time to return."

And the sparrows flew to her, and among the flurry of pale wings, Black Wolf could see one that had a faint golden glow, and that sparrow touched the silver arrow with its wings and it melted and vanished and suddenly Black Wolf's red blood ran freely, and with it the light of life.

There was darkness like a shadow falling in Black Wolf's eyes, but then she could see the stream of light, more beautiful, more brilliant than anything she had ever seen. It looked like home.

The Raven watched this, and it felt as though something was crushing her chest, something she at first thought to be pain, and as it filled her, knew to be love.

"You are free to go," chirped the sparrows.

But the Raven shook her head softly and flew to the Black Wolf who now lay on the ground, her eyes suddenly too heavy to keep open as her body was growing lighter. The Raven did not hesitate but bent down her head and took a sip of the bright red blood that was now spreading in the snow which melted with its warmth. She swallowed it all down, and as she did so, a sound echoed in her ribcage, like a piece of machinery stalling and then stopping. And with that sound, the clockwork heart that had kept her alive melted and ran into her veins like quicksilver. Its gold rushed through her body and so bright it was that her feathers became gold-lined, that her chest began to glow like a winter sun. And from her chest, this light spread into the chest of the Black Wolf, against whom she was pressed, and found its way into her open wound and into her quieting bloodstream. For some heartbeats, the raven and the wolf glowed like spring sun, and behind their eyelids the summer of the Bear's last dream blossomed in all its richness and filled them with light and warmth which grew so bright that they were nearly blinded and finally, all they could see was the stream of light that looked like home, and then, as quickly as it had kindled, the light of life burnt out, and all that was left was ash as black as night.

❧

"Sister Sparrow! Sister Sparrow!" 

And a small sparrow opened its eyes for the first time, blinking at the light.

"Welcome, Sister Sparrow, good morning."

"Death is small, Death is commonplace."

"Life needs light to continue, life must return to Life, and Death will return all to Life."

"Only a little will Death keep to itself."

"Only a little, only a little."

"No gold, only the pebbles."

"Only little sparrow bodies for those pebbles."

"Death keeps little and so we the dead have little room."

"We are the dead, we are the dead."

"Just a little room, and so you have but one body now."

"But one body, your souls married now, but one."

And so, if the soul of the Black Wolf had been a small black pebble, and the soul of the Raven a black pebble not much different, the last drop of gold from the melted clockwork heart had now joined those two black pebbles together so completely that one could never find their outlines anymore.

And so in the end, there was no Black Wolf and no Raven, only many wolves and ravens and other creatures that would find each other in the heart of winter and share their food and their warmth for the short while when they were here, and then they would happily return to the stream of light that would bring a new spring and birth new life and make all things anew. And so all things end, and all things begin, and all things return from whence they came and set off once more, to find one another and to share their lives, and to one day join together in the stream of light that is Life, that is Death.

The end," says Maryam, and only then does she notice that Anya is already deep asleep. Her breath comes as warm puffs of air, fingers of her right hand curled around the lynx tooth hanging from her neck in a leather band. Maryam smooths her hair back.

"May you dream of honey and birdsong, little lamb," she whispers to her daughter, rising and shaking off the vestiges of the tale from her mind.

There is a knock at the door. At first, Maryam thinks she merely dreams it, but then it comes again, and she can hear the goat bell she's hung there chiming.

She straightens her scarf, and glances at her sleeping daughter. It has been a long time since anyone knocked on her door.

When Maryam opens it, she is both startled and delighted.

"Sister Bear!" Maryam exclaims.

"May your sheep grow fleece like clouds, may a silver moon light your nights, and may your heart be like a storm-bent tree, child," says the old woman at the door, the tassels of her woollen cap swaying as she bows her head.

"May your soul be a storm lantern, Sister Bear," Maryam replies and bows and lets the lady in from the cold.

Sister Bear shakes the snow off her clothes at the doorway, and stepping inside, takes off her cap, revealing her bare head with its short bristle of hair. On her forehead, right at the border of her hair, there is a pale white tattoo, the outlines of a diamond with a cross through it. Maryam is surprised.

Not only has it been a long time since she has last seen a Sister Bear - but it is only a few times in her whole life that she has seen a White Bear at all. When she was a child, she was both enchanted and intimidated by these women, wondering what it would be like to become one and yet feeling relieved that she had not heard the call. White Bears were the most intriguing ones. They were the women who had heard the call of the bear as young girls, and consequently would be shaved and given the mark of the White Bear, after which they set out into the wilderness, to give their life to the wild gods, to live a pure life as animals lived. They would never bear human children and never have their own herd, hut or a horse. Only rarely, when it was the coldest winter or when the yearning to hear human voices grew unbearable, they would come and stay with one of the horse people for a while. It was an honour and a blessing to be visited by a Sister Bear. They had wisdom no one else possessed, and they, like animals, were closer to the gods and all that was holy, pure and ruthless. There were also Brown Bears who lived as horse people for a while, who might have children and herds, but who one day heard the call of the bear, found homes for their children and their animals, and then joined the beasts in the wild. Grey Bears were the elderly women who gave their final days or years to the forest, preparing their journey back to the stream of life.

But this woman who stands before Maryam now was a White Bear, and she has never known an easy life with horses and herd and a warm hearth. Maryam looks at her admiringly, her weather-worn skin, the way her eyes flicker from one thing to another like a wild animal's. It feels like standing before a god.

"What can I give you, Sister Bear?" Maryam asks. "Let my humble hut be your den."

The White Bear smiles and her eyes crinkle with pleasure, "I would like strong tea with a drop of something stronger. A cup of fatty milk, and a long-cooked bone if you have one."

"Of course, Sister Bear. And please ask for more. You mustn't feel hungry or thirsty or lacking in anything while you bless us with your presence."

"That shall be enough for now," says the White Bear. She looks at Anya, sleeping bundled up in blankets and rugs, her mouth ajar, breathing steady and deep. "What a sweet cub. And a strong one, she looks like."

Maryam drops the tea leaves in her kettle and laughs, "She truly is. Stronger than her mother soon, I fear."

The White Bear smiles once more and nods approvingly, "That is good, that is as it should be. Although her mother should be strong as well."

"I hope I am. Strong enough, at least."

"Soon we shall find out," says Sister Bear. Maryam thinks it a good-natured remark, a reference to the point in Anya's growth where she will need to use all her strength to keep the girl growing towards the sun like a sapling bent by trees, but then she catches the White Bear's eyes. They are looking at her, looking through her, piercing and knowing. Maryam's hands slightly quiver as she sets the cups in front of the old woman who has settled on the pillows.

Nothing escapes her beast's eyes. "Fear not, child. I will guide you and you will find your way."

Maryam can feel that something is about to begin, and so she pours another cup of strong tea with bramble liquor mixed in for herself, before she sits down with the White Bear.

"It was not coincidence that brought me to you," says the White Bear, and she touches Maryam's face. Her hand is rough like a paw and the touch sends a shiver through Maryam's body. She is afraid but she is also enchanted. She cannot tear her eyes away from the woman.

"Let us drink now. Tell me how you have been and your herd, what the other horse people have done and said. I will tell you about the beautiful days of the wilderness, about the wild dreams it brings at night. And I will tell you what I need to tell you when it is time."

Maryam agrees. And so they drink and talk, and she enjoys the White Bear's wisdom, her barking laughter and her cruel sense of humour, the wild that has grown around her heart like a tree around another. And so they talk and laugh and feel dizzy with the drink, until Maryam notices that she is awfully tired, weary in a happy way, as you are after a good long day.

"Sister Bear," she says, "you must tell me now what you came to tell, before I fall asleep and your words will slip away from me."

But the White Bear brushes her coarse paw against Maryam's cheek again and shakes her head gently. "It is a long, dark night, and not yet time for a beginning," she says. "It is time for you to sleep, child, and gather your strength."

Maryam's eyelids feel leaden and although she knows she should not fall asleep before her guest, she cannot help herself. She feels like a child tugged beneath the covers after a long ride, cheeks still frost-bitten. The White Bear's voice is low and warm, like honey, as she begins, "Once upon a time there was..."