Mudminnow River Eridanus

Esma is right at the edge of Riverclan's borders.

Very early on in her life Esma had learned that owning stuff could only bring you trouble. Whether it was a piece of bone, even food, if it was something she could not take with her everywhere, it was bound to either get lost or claimed by someone else. Make no mistake, she was just like every other kid - she liked toys, she had desired things and she had felt very upset, when she could not have them or - this happened more often - they were taken from her by siblings. Hating arguments of all kinds and being submissive by nature, it never occurred to her that she could stand up for her and fight. It was easier to give up, even if it meant her own unhappiness. 

Yet on one such day, when her little heart had been full to the brim at the injustice of having yet another thing she had liked taken or lost, she had realized that the same thing could not happen to imaginary thing. Of course, a dreamt up bone was not the same as chewing one in real life, but she figured that, when forced to give it up, she could always take its spirit with her. Just like those bear gods mom had told her about did. Which meant that a person could continue to gnaw on her bone all they wanted, but they would never have the same satisfaction, because Esma had taken its soul. It did not seem to bother other people, but she enjoyed the idea so much that soon she simply had to take a good look at something she liked and then added it to her imaginary collection. 

Today she had wandered downstream the river that ran through her home and had settled at a little delta right, where it joined the bigger stream of Mudminnow river. Having never left Riverclan before, she was very cautious of staying within a safe distance from the borders. Just in case of danger (and she had taken all the stories meant to scare small kids into obedience to heart), which she imagined to be something like a dark cloud and horrible, she could run back. But while this was not on the horizon, she explored the multitude of debris that the rising waters from the recent heavy rainfalls had brought with them. 

he'd been relegated to the doghouse yet again by the missus.

well, quasi-missus, as rib was more a rebound for a rebound. there was still hope oldskin might take him back, so he held on. even though days passed like sand between talons. even though he could feel this new flame fizzling out. 

yet another.

yonder picked about the rivershore, at long intervals fishing out pebbles he thought looked decent, forming a small pile on dry land. maybe rib might be persuaded to let him nest with her tonight, if he bought her love with gifts. she so loved gifts.

You saved this lonely, old thing! Infinite gratitude! :)

Esma was not the only treasure hunter here. Having made a neat pile of things she considered worth keeping, she returned to the stream to check out some of the rounded pebbles. There she noticed a big black bird doing the same thing she did. Up until now the girl had never payed much attention to species other than her own. Prey aside, in a sense that they might interest her at all. But now she lied down, rested her head between her outstretched paws, while her eyes followed the path of the winged brother.

Esma - so awkward and shy around her own kin - felt amusement of the spectacle and smile appeared her lips. She lifted her head and directed a short, playful growl at the crow and tapped her forepaws playfully. 

no, no, too round. this one's too long. she'd slaughter me if i gave her that! too grey. too-

the raven fussed with his slowly growing pile, oblivious to the observer.

could be less solid in color. why's this one red? too round, again, too- KRAK!!

yonder croaked and hopped back with flap of wings as if he'd just been the victim of a violent stabbing. his head swung and overshot the culprit several times, his eyes aimed too high- on about the seventh pass, he spotted it.

a weasel. he assumed. its head was low to the ground, and brown. with big earskin and black-tipped beak and oh father wind that's a wolf.

yonder went very, very still. if i don't move, it can't see me, he said to himself, standing starkly black against frost-tipped reeds.

An amused look crossed Esma's expression, when the big, black bird first got scared, then noticed, who was looking at him and decided to pretend that he was not there. This was a game she too had played on many occasions during her childhood. Imagining herself being invisible to the others. And over time she had learned to disappear in the Riverclan's territory so well that no one really knew, where she was, until she decided to make her presence known. 

"Do you talk?" Esma asked, wondering, if this midnight-black feathered fellow was a messenger of gods. Maybe a bird impersonation of one of the bear gods. How cool would that be?

a long, long uuuuuuhhhhh sound came out of yonder as he realized he was, yes, seen.

it morphed into the beginning of a sentence while his birdbrains cooked a reply:

uuuhhhyEAH! his croak was accompanied by a quick bat of wings. it was a nervous gesture - he wasn't yet gonna try flying, for the risk of being snatched out of the air.

i speak, yea, yea. words. sentences. all that. he was a tad frantic. you, uh, want to, um, hear something specific, ooor...?

hopefully, he could talk his way out of this one.

Esma had not expected any response from a creature, who she did not consider as a sentient being. No wonder that, when he replied, her eyes grew wide in surprise and her jaw hung agape. "Wow!" she muttered, looking at the crow as if it was the first time she actually saw him.

"Are you a messenger from the gods?" she asked, resting her head between her outstretched paws to make her considerably smaller companion feel more comfortable, while her tail was tapping excitedly against the frozen ground. 

yonder was silent.

...of course! with exaggerate flourish, the raven swept his wing forward and did a little bow.

he could talk his way out of this.

a-at your service, um, mister.. ?

"What's a mister?" Esma asked, forgetting that she should show appropriate respect to the honourable guest from the plane of divine creatures. The raven looked so very different from the people she was used to talk to, that she did not doubt for one second that he could be lying and pretending to be something he was not. 

"What god do you serve?" she asked next, but then something scared the crow, he flapped his wings and flew off.