[The Barrow-Wight]

Akaaw again stirred first among his monstrous murder, but this morning it was no wizardly call that roused him. In fact, he hadn’t slept at all. Through the cold, windy night on the high granite cliff, the crow leader had huddled with closed eyes, but a steady procession of faces had kept true sleep at bay. Each creban missing from the flock had marched slowly by him, every one eyeing him accusingly. Each dead bird had looked into his eyes and said: Ware the trees…

A sudden, icy gust ruffled his feathers, and he pushed away from the cliff to catch it. The wind lifted him quickly away from the rocky ledge and upward, high above his sleeping comrades. To the east, the sun was giving off its first faint glimmers, and he flew towards it as if to catch the first warmth of the day. Perhaps this day would be better than the last. Time would tell.

He looked below, searching the rocks until he noticed Pip’kha who, alone of the birds he could see, was awake and looking up as if waiting for him to call. He motioned for him to come to him, and soon he hovered at his side.

“Good morning,” said the younger crow. “How was your night?”

“Cold and long,” he grumbled blearily.

“Aye, for me, as well,” said Pip’kha, wisely changing the subject. “What will our destination be today?”

Akaaw nodded to the northwest. “Across the mountains and down into Dunland. Now that the horde has fed, we can fly far and fast. It is there, or further north, that the master said we are most likely to find what he seeks.”

The creban captain looked to his chief expectantly, but Akaaw was not forthcoming with more information.

The large crow spoke again. “Wake the flock and get us on our way.”

[ January 18, 2003: Message edited by: The Barrow-Wight ]