A Crow's Caw

“May the ravens caw your name at twilight,” a man in regal clothes and crown said to the rather tall personage in a dear skull - mask? Face? As the regal man said this, the butterfly wings on his back fluttered.

Yvette blinked. She had the feeling that she was having a wonderful time at the party.

It was a nice spring day and everyone there - except deer skull - was dressed in finery, all of their wings gently fluttering in the breeze. Yvette laughed, trying to blend in as she was approached by deer skull.

“Are you having a good time, young one?” it whispered.

“Oh, delightful,” Yvette responded. Slowly though, something in the back of her mind was screaming for her attention.

“Have you tried the delights?” The deer skull asked. The person was in a long brown robe and was wearing gloves over its hands. It gestured towards a long oak table glittering with food.

“Oh, not yet.” A scream from the back of her mind. “But I’m not hungry.”

“Suit yourself,” it said, skittering over to the table past all the guests. The regal one gave a little bow, and then looked at Yvette with a curious glance and a flutter of his wings.

“Hello there,” he said, bowing. He said his name, but Yvette couldn’t hear it properly. “You must be new here. I must say your wings are beautiful.”

Yvette looked puzzled then felt behind her. She could feel the gossamer wings between her delicate fingers.

“Oh, thank you sir.” Yvette replied. 

When did she have wings? She was a witch not a fae. She looked down at the shimmering evening gown she was wearing, the skirt billowing about her legs as she walked. It looked like something her mother would wear if she were still alive.

The scream in the back of her mind grew louder, she shouldn't be here.

 She was not meant to be here. She was not supposed to be here.

“If you’re not hungry perhaps you will join in the dance?” the regal one spoke again, his voice a smooth tenor. There was something screeching in her mind, but in spite of that a sheepish smile crept over the teen’s freckled face as she tucked a loose strand of brown hair away. 

“Oh, the dance. Yes. Of course.” 

The scream in her mind. Trying to remind her of something, something she should not forget. Was it a scream? No, it was something else: Some kind of animal.

Yvette walked into the garden with the fae lord, she glanced about to see others with wings.

The man held out his hand to her and bowed slightly, a smile creeping onto his lips. He gestured with his free hand and a small ensemble in the corner struck up a lively tune. The regal one began to dance. He had the rhythm of an artist as he danced. Yvette joined in and began to dance along with the beat.

As she danced she realized this dance was not like the romps she would dance in the Maltshops and proms back home. No this was older, intricate, something ritualistic and sacred. She felt unworthy, an imposter. 

As she twirled with the beat other fae joined in with the dance, they were all a swirling pattern of darkness and color intertwined. Through it all she could see the deer skull watching her, or seemingly watching her the hollow eye sockets revealed nothing. 

Over the music the cry of ravens as up above a flock fluttered above in their own dance. Ravens. Where was Cole her faithful familiar? Was he above her now? The ravens flew in patterns as the fae dancers moved in their own pattern.

“Are you hungry now, my sweet?” The king asked.

“Oh, yes!” Yvette said, catching her breath.

“There is the table,” he said, pointing. “Already set before thee, with all the freshest victuals that one could find.”

Yvette looked and beheld a great feast set on the oak table. Deer skull was now seated at a large chair at the other end - still watching with hollow eyes - but Yvette ignored him and walked closer.

Suddenly - WOOSH!

“TRICKY FAE! TRICKY FAE!” Something squawked as it flew past her, its wings brushing her hair as it swung by. 

“Dang ravens!” Yvette said, swatting at air. Then she stopped.

It was a familiar voice.

She looked up but could only see the constant circle of black birds. 

Cole, it was Cole somewhere in the flock. The food. If she consumed any of it she would be stranded there. The scream in her mind again, it was clear now, a warning she had heard some time ago. Some mysteries needed to stay a mystery.

“Run! Run! Run, Yvette!” Cole shouted from above. “Jig is up!” 

Yvette reached a hand back and felt her wings were dissolving, she ran as the faces of the fae guests stared at her as she ran past the oversized mushrooms, past the cackling visage of the gatekeeper.    

“Almost midnight, flee while you can. The crows shall caw. Will they call your name too?”   

Yvette ran and ran and ran and then found herself in the woods. The darkness and the forest closed in behind her and all that remained was an echo of an echo, the forest a mass of shadows. 

There was a fluttering sound above and Yvette conjured up a darklash in her hand, ready to strike. 

“Pay attention Yvette!” Cole shouted.

“Oh, Cole. It’s you.” Yvette sighed as her raven fluttered to her shoulder. 

Girl and raven pressed their heads together for a time, before Yvette spoke. 

“I’m starting to think clearly again, my friend.”

The witch sighed as she looked at her fancy dress, “Guide me home faithful familiar I implore you.” 

The raven did as instructed guiding the young witch through the forest as Yvette checked the watch she had concealed on her person, the dim light made the numbers barely discernible, but it continued to tick. 

“Has it really only been a few minutes?” Yvette asked aloud.