Raven's Watch marshveldt

It was nice, on this trip, to get the chance to know Brontë and Ponyboy a bit more too.  Bridget had given the family as much space as she could while still supporting Teya, and this meant she didn’t have the same ease around either of them that she’d felt around Sorana.  It was a quiet difference that only she knew the comparison in, but she was careful to respect it.  They were older, old enough that she might not be Aunt Bridget, but a friend of their mom’s instead.

A part of her regretted letting that space happen.  But Bronco had deserved better than her jealousy and she was glad she’d at least done what she needed to come to terms with that.

That should buy us the night, at least. She replied, agreeing to Bronte’s and Teya’s statements with a cheerful glance up.  We just might want to offer it a ways off from where we plan to settle in.  Unless we want to deal with an entirely different kind of offering.  She chuckled at her own joke, entirely unbothered if she was the only one.

Something about this touched a deeper level in her, though.  Ravens, and the like, were somewhat sacred back home.  They were creatures of war, servants of the deities that ruled that realm, and maybe even the gods themselves in disguise.  It was probably nonsense, but Bridget had never killed one on the slight chance that it was bad luck to do so, and offering a tithe reminded her of home in a way she didn’t expect.  It was too bad she wasn’t the storyteller that Maia and Eljay were.  This was the perfect setting for a myth.