Nova Peak Raven's Call

Well met, Skorpa. The blackbird moves to follow him, her eyes intently watching his step as they ascended the mountainside. Trusting the guardian's pathfinding.

Galesinger is my family name. It was given to us by others. Raven murmured as her mind drifted to her grandfather. His image was clear within her mind. The look in his eye as the air changed. The wind cutting through his fur. The boom of his voice as he sung to the skies. A warning song carried on until the rain drowned it out.

It wasn't always our name, but my grandfather said the name stuck when his grandfather was a boy.

The girl's mind wandered further. She was curled between her grandfather's mighty paws. She was barely more than a babe. Sat at the entrance of a cave as the heavens cried. The clouds black as night, the lightning dancing across the sky.

Her grandfather's voice was low, whisper soft in a soothing lullaby. A ward against the raging storm, never had she felt safer than in his arms.

We would use our voices to warn of oncoming storms. The mountain range was steep in many places, and floods were deadly. When all joined the song, it could be heard for miles. So my grandfather would say.