The Raven's Fury

Chapter3

Looking at the forest around me, I can’t stop myself from laughing. The adrenaline coursing through me is beginning to slow, and I am beyond exhausted, but I’m free. I know I’m not entirely safe being out in the open, but Aegon Forest will shield me for the time being.

Wonder fills me at how much more vibrant and lively the world around me seems. The trees are so full of leaves that I can’t even see the sky above me. The leaves are the rich red of autumn, and they litter the surrounding ground. I can hear birds singing above me, and small animals, like rabbits and squirrels, racing through the grass. The air tastes like rain and the ground beneath me is muddy. The forest welcomes me by offering me this glimpse of peace.

Aegon Forest is quite literally alive. It welcomes those it sees as friends and allies. Meanwhile, enemies are greeted with hallucinations, poison gasses, and warrior treants. Treants are the people of the forest, and they look just like the trees that surround me. They’re usually a peaceful race, living as one with nature. But they don’t take kindly to those who would hurt the forest and all the small lives within it. Warrior treants are masters at stealth combat, blending in seamlessly with the trees, so attackers don’t know where they’re being hit from. They also have an innate brute strength and their will is as sturdy as the roots of the oldest trees here. Because of them, this forest is one of the most secure places in the entire kingdom.

When my mother was pregnant with me, my father pleaded with Aegon, the guardian treant this forest is named after, and struck a deal to ensure my protection should anything happen to them. I don’t know what the exact terms were, but I was always told that I would be welcomed in the forest if I ever needed it. This whole forest will protect me from Petra and the hounds she sends after me until I either choose to leave, or am forced out. But even with this protection, being out in the open is still unwise. There are still regular predators here, like bears and wolves.

Closing my eyes, I listen to my surroundings. I can hear running water somewhere in the distance behind me. Small animals are burrowing near me on my right, preparing for nighttime. There is a slight whistling noise to my left, that sounds like it may be wind traveling through a cave. If I can take shelter there, I’m sure I can find something to eat on my way there. With my decision made, I open my eyes to start moving, but I squeak in shock at the massive raven perched on a rock in front of me.

The raven is the biggest bird I have ever seen. With it being on the rock and me kneeling on the ground, we are at eye level with each other. We look at each other curiously for a couple of minutes, then the raven lowers its head to me, almost in a bow. I copy the raven's movement, bowing back, and as I do, the raven moves closer to me and couches our heads together. I instinctively hold my breath, fearing any sound that may break the pure tranquility of this moment. I don’t know why, but this interaction feels incredibly important, and my mother used to tell me that my feelings would guide my way in life.

After a while, the raven pulls away and flies behind me. It lands on another rock about five feet away and squawks loudly, telling me to follow it. All thoughts of the cave are swept from my mind as I pull myself up to stand. I lean heavily against the trees for support as I force one foot in front of the other. My body feels so heavy, I think I might collapse at any moment. “Right foot forward. Left foot forward.” I chant aloud with every step I take.

Once I reach the raven, it flies ahead again, landing on another rock and turning to watch my slow progress. We continue this pattern even after I can no longer stand and am forced to crawl through the mud. No matter how difficult, the raven continues to push me forward. Night has fully fallen now, and our path is illuminated only by fireflies. I finally reach the raven, and it moves forward again. I scream at the effort it takes to pull my body even further.

I don’t know exactly how long we do this, but eventually we reach what looks like ruins. At first, I think I’m finally falling into insanity and hallucinating, but the touch of the ornate stone under my hands assures me it’s real. I instantly start crying in relief from my struggle. The magic here is very old, but it feels warm and inviting. I’ll be safe here for the night, and in my current state that’s all that really matters to me.

The raven squawks again to my left now, and I turn to see what it wants to show me. It’s standing beside a stream that cuts through the ruins. It’s glowing such a bright and iridescent blue, I’m not sure how I hadn’t noticed it before.

Slowly, I pull myself towards it. When I reach it, I look from the water to the raven, unsure if it’s okay for me to drink from it. The raven only nods at me, so I cup some water in my hands and hesitantly sip at it. Immediately, it feels like the water is washing through my whole body, erasing all my pain. Greedily, I drink more and more water until my thirst is satiated and the pain that was radiating through me is completely gone. Once I’m finished, I turn to the raven, waiting for its next move. It hops over to an empty doorway in one of the ruins and I follow close behind. My movement is no longer inhibited by pain, but exhaustion is still weighing heavily on me.

In the building, the raven leads me to a pile of hay that’s in the far corner of the room. Looking around, other than overgrowth covering the wall, the hay is all that’s here, and it looks like it was freshly placed. The raven tilts its head towards the hay and I immediately lay down on it. After years of sleeping on the metal floor of my cage, the hay feels like the most comfortable bed in the world to me. I’m fighting to stay awake, wanting to know more about this bird and its strange intelligence, but the raven rests its head against mine again, just like earlier. “Rest,” I hear a quiet voice whisper in my mind. Then everything around me fades to black.