The Raven and The Girl

(Story contains brief mentions of death and animal sacrifice)

Amara grew up in the farming village of East Valley. The people of East Valley prided themselves on their ability to grow crops of all sorts, and through all seasons. No other place was so green, so luscious, so fertile as the region of the Twin Valleys. 

East Valley had been in existence for hundreds of years since the first men had set foot on the continent. Amara’s family had been tied to the land for their entire cumulative history. She was as much a part of East Valley as the trees, wind, and rocks were. The black soil and green roots ran through her veins like lifeblood. 

Her entire life she had grown up knowing she would someday take over her family’s farm as the eldest child. One day, the acres of fields would be hers, and she would toil and plow, and grow dark from days spent in the sun.

Despite the knowledge of her future, Amara was restless. Her parents said she had been born restless. Even in the womb, she had been sleepless, spending most of the time kicking and flipping. Once she was born, she wasted no time learning to roll, crawl, and walk – whatever it took to get to someplace else. Her parents had to fashion a harness to keep her safely within sight when they were working the fields, or she would quickly wander off in pursuit of some fancy.

Amara was especially drawn to birds. She was fascinated with the way they took to the skies and never seemed to settle anywhere for long. Even as a young woman, she spent most of her time outdoors watching the birds soar with aching jealousy. As she lay in bed at night, most of the time she fell asleep fantasizing about what it would be like to grow wings.

One year, when Amara was a young woman of nineteen, the sun came out of its winter slumber, and it scorched the earth. The heat burned the once succulent plants, turning them brown and burning them from leaf to root. The villagers prayed for rain, but the rain did not come. Months of endless heat and sun-dried the ground of all nutrients. By winter, the villagers swore that the rain would arrive soon. Yet, it did not. 

A new year came, and still, the rain was absent. The last of the crops withered away. People began to use their stored goods to survive. The river that ran through the valley turned to sludge. Desperate for relief, the villagers began to sacrifice livestock to the gods, in the hopes that the gift of life would bring the gift of rain. And still, the rain did not come.

What came instead were the ravens. Flocks of ravens. They blackened the sky and covered the barren trees. The ravens feasted on the forgotten remains of sacrificed livestock and picked at the bloated dead fish that lined the edges of the river. 

Soon the villagers began to whisper of curses. They wondered if the ravens were a sign of some dark spell put over them. The drought, the drying river, the withering crops, and then the ravens. It was all too much to be a coincidence. 

The once thriving village soon began to empty. Its inhabitants, whose families had worked in the area for hundreds of years, were leaving. They left to find new homes, where death wasn’t their only future.

But Amara’s family did not leave. And so, she was there when the stranger came to town.

The stranger was a young man. He had hair that glistened like a black jewel, and eyes that were as dark as night. His features were sharp and long, but the moment Amara saw him, she swore that he was the most beautiful person she had ever laid eyes on. 

The young man entered the town at noon, with nothing but a small sack of items slung over his shoulder. His clothes were old and worn but they were clean. The flocks of ravens settled on the houses when he walked into town, and they watched him carefully as he made his way towards the village center. As he walked, they followed, hopping from rooftop to rooftop. Villagers slowly poured into the center, whispering to each other about the newcomer. They hadn’t had anyone new since the drought had started. They wondered who he was and where he came from. They wondered why he was there of all places.

When a sizeable crowd had formed, the village mayor stepped forward. Amara, curious, and strangely drawn to the dark young man, was close behind him. 

“Hello, stranger,” the mayor called out. “What brings you to the once-great East Valley?”

The young man cocked his head as if thinking over each word. It took him a moment to reply, but when he did, he spoke carefully and slowly in a strange accent.

“I am a traveler. I come to many villages and many lands. I follow the weather, to study its patterns. I ask only for hospitality until I am on my way again,” he said.

A shiver ran down Amara’s spine when he spoke. His words were clipped, and his voice was harsh, but something about him made a fire burn in her belly. Looking at him made her think of thunderstorms and crows. It seemed as if below his human skin, he was wild like the animals and the weather, feral and untamed. Amara knew that he was special.

Through some discussion, the mayor deemed the young man harmless enough that he could take residence in the mostly empty Inn. 

Amara snuck off into the crowd, determined to meet the man there. At the Inn, she waited impatiently at a table, holding her breath for the first glimpse of the stranger when he entered. She did not have to wait long. As soon as he entered, he cocked his head again and turned to look directly at her. The fire in her belly bloomed again. The man smiled and approached her. Amara’s heart beat quickly in her chest.

Sitting down across from her, the man studied her for a moment before speaking.

“I am Reikan,” was all he said.

Smiling to herself, Amara reached boldly across the table and took his hand in her own.

“I am Amara,” she replied breathlessly. Reikan seemed surprised at her gesture and looked intently at their joined hands. After a moment he laughed. The sound was like the cries of songbirds in flight. 

“Amara,” Reikan began, “you are as lovely as a spring morning. And so bold. I seldom meet people who so willingly take my hands in theirs.” Reikan’s voice was light and teasing.

“I… I don’t really know what got into me,” Amara said. It was true. She had never acted such a way with a stranger before. But something about the dark-eyed man drew her, and she felt as if she had known him for a thousand years before. “I hope you don’t find this fearful, but I feel as if I know you. You remind me of… something. Something I can’t quite put my finger on,” she said bravely.

Reikan smiled widely as he clasped her hands in his.

“Yes,” he answered. “Yes, I feel it also. I have known you before, in one life or another.”

From that moment on, the two of them became inseparable. Reikan told Amara all about the wonderful and mysterious lands he had traveled to. He told her how he chased the storms across the world, in hopes of learning their secrets. Amara told Reikan all about the relationship that her family had with the earth and the plants. She explained that the rain had not fallen for over a year and that death loomed closer every day. She admitted that her people were scared that they were cursed. Reikan told her that he had seen such events many times and that the rains always came back in the end.

Together the two laid out on the roof of the Inn at night, talking until the sun rose.

“Your hair is as golden as sunlight. Your eyes are as blue as the rushing rivers,” Reikan told Amara. He gently touched her long golden strands of hair, amazed at their shine and texture. He told her that she fascinated him. Amara admitted that he fascinated her as well. She returned the gestures of touch, running her fingers down his pale face and through his thick, sleek, black hair.

Days turned into weeks. The flocks of ravens grew more numerous every day. Fear spread through the village like wildfire. Determined to find a scapegoat to take the blame for their hopeless situation, the people soon turned their eyes on Reikan. Some folks began to claim that he was a demon or a vengeful god. They claimed that he had come to finish the job of bringing about their decline. They claimed the drought was his fault. They said the ravens were there because they were messengers of death, and they were waiting to take the souls of the townsfolk to hell. 

Everywhere Amara and Reikan went, spiteful eyes followed them. People threw trash at Reikan and shouted insults at him. They threatened him, saying if he didn’t leave, they would chase him out or worse. Even Amara’s own family eventually turned against him.

“He must go. He is corrupting you! You spend all of your time with him and shirk your duties!” Amara’s mother cried.

“What duties?” Amara retorted. “Our duties are gone! The crops are gone! We have nothing left!”

“Exactly!” Bellowed Amara’s father. “This curse has taken everything from us! And that man is tied into it somehow! I just know it.”

Amara couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces. Her family, her town, they were all turning against the man she loved. She realized at that moment that she had fallen hopelessly in love with Reikan. There was no denying it anymore. Tears dripped down her sunbaked face as she stood before her family. She only wished that they understood her desire to be free, and accepted her for who she was, and who she loved.

“If he leaves, I will leave with him,” she promised.

“No! Amara, you cannot leave! This is your home!” Her family begged. But Amara had made up her mind. 

That night she and Reikan snuck into the skeletal remains of the apple orchard. Where once the trees had been proud and full, now they were bare and decrepit. Amara and Reikan laid beneath what was left of one of her favorite trees and counted the stars together. In the distance, an owl called softly into the soft breeze.

“I have spent so many years wishing I was a bird,” Amara whispered to her love. He turned his glossy black eyes to her and studied her intensely. 

“Why a bird?” He finally asked, stroking her arm with one long finger.

“Because they are so free. So much freer than humans could ever be. If I were a bird, I could spread my wings and take to the sky. I could fly as effortlessly as I breathe. No place would hold me down. If I were a bird, I could simply fly to wherever there was food and water. I wouldn’t have to watch my family slowly starve and turn against each other.”

“Yes,” Reikan said softly. “All those things are true. There is nothing freer than to be a bird. But I think that there is beauty in humanity. The way your heart aches with love, and loss. The uncertainty of looking into your future, and the reflection of seeing into your past. Such feelings are so wondrous. Birds do not long for the past. They do not gaze into the future with fear and hope. They simply exist in the moment. Nothing is guaranteed beyond each second, and so they take each moment as it comes, and nothing else.”

It was Amara’s turn to look into Reikan’s face. She searched within him for a long time. Finally, tears came to her eyes and dripped into the parched earth as she came to understand the truth.

“Will you go back?” She asked him, her heart gripped with pain.

“Yes… someday I must. I cannot stay here forever, no matter how much I want to; no matter how much I love you.” 

Reikan cried with Amara, his tears mingling with hers as they pooled in the dust. They kissed for a long time, breathing in each other’s scent.

“Come with me,” he pleaded desperately. She tightened her grip on him but didn’t answer. “Please,” he continued. “Join me. We can be together. I can give you all the things you have dreamed of. You can be like me. We can explore the world together; you can touch the skies with your wingtips.”

“But that would mean I wouldn’t be able to return, right? If I came with you… there would be no going back.”

Reikan’s black eyes met her tearful blue ones and he nodded sadly.

“Yes. You wouldn’t be able to do what I can. For a human to make the change, there is no undoing it.”

“Would you leave me to become human again?” She asked quietly.

“No,” he swore. “Never. I would never leave you. But if you decided to join me, you must know that your humanity would slip away bit by bit. Someday you would wake up, and your years as a woman would seem like nothing more than a distant dream. I will love you forever, but I cannot have you make this decision lightly. And if you say no, I will understand. I will love you until my last breath, no matter what you decide.”

They kissed again, hungrily, desperately. Amara’s heart weighed heavy with the choice. She loved Reikan with every fiber of her being, but could she love him for exactly who he was? Could she love him as something that belonged more to the wilderness than to the human world? Could she turn her back on her family and give up all her ambitions and memories?

Under the stars, she watched as an owl swooped silently over them. In the distance the ravens called out, beckoning back their brother who had spent so long in human skin.

Amara’s parents noticed she was missing the next day. She had never failed to return at some point each day to let them know she was ok. Fear overcame them as they desperately searched the village for her. In their search, they were told that Reikan was missing as well. Sure that the strange man had stolen Amara away, the villagers gathered a search party. For hours they looked high and low. Eventually, as evening gathered its dusky cloak around the world, they saw signs of the two missing young people by the barren apple orchard.

Hanging from Amara’s favorite apple tree was her dress. It was folded neatly over a branch, with the rest of her clothing, and her shoes were laid by the trunk. Amara’s parents gasped and wailed.

High in the branches, the cry of a raven drew their attention. Pausing their mourning, they looked up to see two ravens watching them. One raven hopped down the branches until it was face to face with Amara’s parents.

The crowd of villagers gasped when they saw that the raven’s eyes were a startling shade of blue — as blue as the river in all its glory, as blue as the skies.

The raven cawed and opened its mouth, dropping a pair of earrings at the feet of Amara’s parents. When they saw what it was the raven had dropped, they fell to their knees. Amara’s favorite earrings glistened in the fading sunlight. The same pair she had been wearing when she disappeared.

Understanding finally found its way into her family’s hearts. As they sobbed their goodbyes to Amara, their tears watered the parched earth. With one final cry, the two ravens leaped into the air, rising to great heights. All around them, thousands of other ravens joined their flight, crying together as they swept over the village and towards the horizon. 

The tears of Amara, Reikan, and her family were soon joined by others. Drop by drop fell. Each water droplet hit the ground like a prayer. Soon the villagers realized that it wasn’t just their own tears that were falling — it was rain.

The rain started light at first, but it grew steadily heavier until it was a raging downpour. It rained for a week straight, bringing greenery and hope back to the village. Crops unfurled brown, curled leaves. Trees dug their roots into softening soil. The river that had forgotten what it was like to ebb and flow soon swelled to bursting, washing away the remains of desperate sacrifices. Life came back and chased death away. 

Amara never returned to the village. But every year a raven with startling blue eyes appeared, accompanied by her raven companion. And whenever she showed up, she brought the rain with her. Drought was a long-distant memory for over a generation, a curse broken and forgotten.

The village eventually moved on and settled back into its usual way of life, though there are still songs sung to this day of a girl who ran off with the raven she loved, and how her tears brought the rains that give life.