A Quaint and Curious Volume of Gothic Tales by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B09QHKS4GJ
Publisher: Brigids Gate Press
Published: 2022-01-29T18:30:00+00:00

A Kindness of Ravens

by April Yates

They’re fiercely protective, you know.

Ravens.

And ever so dexterous, both in intellect and the use of their talons.

You’d do well to remember this as well as you read my tale.

#

The groundskeeper always told me that ravens were pests, they destroyed crops and seeds and, given the chance, they’d maim and kill lambs.

“They go for the face. And I dare say that if you were any smaller, Miss Clara, they’d ’av at you too.”

It would have mortified my parents to learn I was escaping from my lessons to roam about the grounds, but I can’t abide the stuffiness of the indoors. I want to be outside, to feel the whipping wind, the sting of the ice-cold rain. Inside, I’d have never been allowed to feel much of anything. Out here, I’m free.

I’ve been merrily making my way along the boundaries of our land, the dry-stone wall crumbling where the root of a sapling had taken hold.

It pleases me to see this bit of nature reclaiming that which had been forged by man. It’s there I see the raven fluttering desperately around the base of a felled tree, trying to get something from between its roots. I approach carefully, curious as to what it’s so intent upon.

Seeing my approach, it hops back a few steps, its dark eyes firmly on me.

Assessing.

Finally, it hops forward again, nipping at my skirts, urging me to follow. Allowing myself to be led reveals a nest wedged under a branch. Next to it, another raven lays with its head at an impossible angle.

The live bird looks from the dead one to me, then back again.

“Your mate?” I don’t know what had possessed me to ask, but the raven’s head bobs in affirmation. “I’m sorry.”

I’m surprised by my own sincerity, but not nearly as much as the fact she understands my words. She pecks at my hand, gently urging me towards the nest.

Miraculously, a single egg seems to have survived.

I cup the nest in both hands and straighten up from my crouched position. My new friend flies up and settles on the edge. I tip it forward slightly at the sudden extra weight.

“Careful.”

She nods before gracefully hopping to my shoulder.

We walk a while looking for an ideal spot. None meet with her approval.

“Listen, you’ll have to pick somewhere. And I really don’t understand what was wrong with these last five trees.”

We’ve reached the house; dare I take them both inside? They’d be easy enough to hide.

“Don’t fly off,” I whisper, “or make a sound.” Head down, I barrel through the house, ever careful not to lose the precious cargo I’m carrying.

The window is the perfect spot, she lets me know with a nod.

I place the nest on the sill. I keep the window open so she can come and go as she pleases, but she doesn’t move from the last of her clutch, and with her mate dead, it falls to me to feed her.

Weeks pass and the egg remains an egg.

Eventually she seems to realize this and leaves.

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