In the first age of creation, when the world was still being written, dwelt the precursors to the creatures we know today. In those days, night was a dangerous time. The animals kept themselves and their young safe by the fire, a gift left behind by the WorldSmiths to keep their creations safe from the wicked horrors creeping beyond the edge of light. The animals kept it fed every day and night out of duty as much as fear.
Of these animals, none was more magnificent than Rainbow Crow. His song was beautiful as to warm the heart and brighten the dawn. His plumage iridescent and luminous with vivid and varied colours, some which haven’t been seen by any still living in the world. Most beautiful of all was his compassion.
One day catastrophe struck and the fire went out. The animals spoke worriedly amongst themselves, and it was decided that someone must journey through the forest and across the desert beyond the mountains to the edge of creation where the world was still being freshly forged from the Outer Mess and reach the Smiths to ask for more fire. There was a stillness as no one step’d forward until the quiet was broken by the uplifting voice of Rainbow Crow, whose sharp eyes could see to the edge of the world and the Smiths crafting it. He volunteer’d to make the flight and bear the fire back.
He set out, singing soothing comforts to all as he left to bring saftey home. For five days he flew tirelessly lest his stopping prolong the nights in the dark. First out of the forest, then over the mountains, then across the desert, all the way to the edge. Landing to catch his breath, he plead’d the WorldSmiths to provide fire that it may be carried home and preserve the remnants of their creations. A blade of lightning struck a nearby, cutting down a branch now flaming. Rainbow Crow sang his beautiful thankyous and began the journey back.
As he bore it back, smoke from the fire billow’d into his eyes, stinging terribly and clouding his vision, but still he flew on. The branch continued to burn, and as he was crossing the desert, the smoke fill’d his throat and crack’d his once beautiful voice into a harsh chilling caw. As he cross’d the mountains, he saw that the smoke and escaping embers had char’d the splendor from his plumage, leaving him black as soot. As he cross’d into the forest, the strength of his body began to fail the strength in his heart, and he sag’d in his flight while the branch continued to burn down.
By this time the animals had been without the safety of the fire for ten days, and night was falling again. What few of them remain’d huddled together wincing in preparation for what was to come, when just as the sun was sinking in the horizon, a huge black bird carrying a smoldering stick crash’d near the pyre that had been made for when Rainbow Crow return’d with the fire. The bird tried to call out his song to herald his return with the fire, but the hollow caw that claw’d out of his parch’d throat only drove the animals back. He quickly shambles to the pyre, raising the flames just as the final glint of sunlight doused from the sky. A horrendous shrieking chorus carved at the sky from beyond the edge of the light as the furious creeping things screech’d against the radiance.
Now safe by the fire again, the animals breathed a sigh of relief, some cheering, some crying. Their ordeal was over. But wait, where was Rainbow Crow? What had this monstrous bird done to him? None found out, for they were too afraid to approach. Seeing this, the once beloved Rainbow Crow, mar’d as he was by the smoke and fire, slowly shambled to a log near the edge of the the light where the padding steps and clawing sucking shifts of the terrors beyond could be heard and sat. Finally, he could rest.
The other animals avoid’d him, discussing amongst themselves what had happen’d. All except one young child, who stared at the bird on the edge of the safety. Unnoticed, the child crept up to the huge heap of black, paused, and then hug’d the Crow for his sacrifice.
I say often that the way I misremember stories is sometimes better to me than the originals when I go to look them up. This is one of those, a story I heard as a small child but was deeply affect’d by and thus held onto for a long time. Written in January of 2012.
TheVeryMask 