Raven's Watch what a grand and intoxicating innocence

if the island's had been upsettingly cold with the chilled sea breeze, he thought this place might have been torture.

snow came down light but it had piled in places. wind swept it into drifts and he found himself disgruntled to have come so far just for this.

his teeth chattered within his rattling mind.

there was a greater reason for being here than just aimless wandering. he felt it, deep within his bones.

an alpine lake sprawled before him.

ravens dotted the snowy horizon. watchful and impatient. in them he thought he saw The Listener. his skin shivered with the shifting breeze.

he was alone.

no, he was not.

Ravens.

Anathema watched them in silence from her own perch. She hadn't moved in hours, her ruffled patchwork fur arranged into a new pattern in this loaflike position. Her stocky limbs, tucked neatly away, were beginning to stiffen. Even so, she might not have moved until nightfall had something not changed.

She didn't recognize the stranger, but then, maybe something in her did. Seaglass eyes locked to his dark figure with the surprised but eager purpose of an old friend realizing the opportunity for reunion; Anathema descended from her perch with quick, abrupt movements, her limbs creaking and cracking in protest. Her anxious clicking, too, filled the air like tiny stones tumbling starkly down the mountainside.

she was something within him.

given a physical form to haunt him. that he felt certain of in this moment of crossing. as if they knew each other in every life, as if they could not be separated.

he had not realized his teeth chattered for a moment and suddenly he clenched his jaw so tight he thought ivory might shatter in his mouth.

scared of her.

in awe of her.

his mind fought itself in ugly, winding twists. hare and fox. one half of a brain sought to destroy and the other half wished to flee.

it's within you, the rambling of a man gone mad, surely. he sounded less like a dagger and more like a priest. enough that it startled even himself when it reached his own ears.

The ravens?

She spoke softly, as if continuing a conversation they'd already been having; as if they'd known each other a lifetime already, and this was just another day of forever that would eventually blend with the rest.

Sometimes. Anathema halted, eyes drifting away from him and to the ravens. She sighed through her nose. Maybe she did know him. Once. She couldn't quite remember, but her heart had never lied about these things as far as she knew.

Do they ever speak to you? She wondered aloud. They didn't speak to her, but she often wondered what they might say if they did.

the ravens.

vessels, he thinks they are.

they had spoke to him in their own way and now he knew why. he understood why their presence had felt like an overwhelming pushing upon his lungs and mind.

yes.

he exhaled and lifted his head to peer at her more carefully.

they told me your name.

it is the voice of parents in his mind now — not his own, not those of birds.

Her eyes found him again, curious now. Anathema fixed that unsettling stare of hers upon his face — eyes as big as twin moons, unblinking, intense but distant like the sheen of glass in the seconds before black waters shatter through. She took in a breath.

Then you know what I am.

Behind her unwavering gaze lurked the question she would not voice, not ever. But maybe he held the answer. Maybe she would finally hear the words.

Anathema to what?

oh, but she is not just one thing.

she is many, spanning lives not just their own. he wondered if thoughts of her were ever whispered before anyone imagined his own existence.

and you know what i am.

he wanted to grab her, to bring her back.

instead he knows he must lure her, tempt her. use whatever bloomed and linked between them now.

don't you?

does it scare you?

Ana shuddered, fur lifting slowly down her spine. Did she know? Suddenly it frightened her, all of it, and her fear showed in the stiff step back that she took, the glint in her eyes.

Maybe I don't, She spat as if to challenge him — as if to challenge fate and the red string itself. Another step back, yet she felt stripped to her bare soul; no escaping the cut of his eyes, no running from what he saw in her. Or what she saw in him, and knew she would see even if she closed her eyes, like an imprint of the brightest light.