Between the two smooth boulders, Shypaw was curled in a soft nest of moss. Herbs smeared her pale fur. Her ribs had bowed under the owl's talons, scratches raked her sides, and an ugly wound was knitting closed at her throat. Her sleep was deep and fragrant from the herbs and her small body quivered as she dreamed.
In her sleep, she stirred at a familiar croon, "Therru." Her name. She blinked open her silvery eyes. All around her was darkness like liquid shadow. There was no ground and no sky, and all that her glowing eyes saw was soft blackness. Her paws scrabbled in mid air for a moment.
"Your silence put you in danger, fledgeling." The voice was croaking and husky, and deep with affection. Shypaw's ears swivelled. It was the raven. She saw him in front of her darker than the darkness, his sharp eye gleaming.
She looked where his eye went. Blood welled from her throat, not sticking or dripping but swirling and disappearing in the darkness. Nothing healed here. Shypaw felt panic pricking at her like a thorn.
The raven ruffled his feathers, fixing Shypaw with a steadying stare. "My kind once protected and guided the spirits of the dead to the stars. This is a place between that remains ours."
The bristly feathers on the raven's chest and his rough rasping voice swelled a little with pride. "We also delivered prophecy and insight, heralded bloodshed and battle and foretold victory. That is why I have my voice." He glided to her with a flick of his wings. "I've come to give you your voice, fledgling Therru."
He lifted his head, his beak resting on the top of her head. Shypaw woke up. It was just a dream.
Outside, soft white flakes drifted by. The view from between the boulders was bare, the ferns brown and dead in the cold, and Shypaw could see drifts of white piling up outside. The snow had come, as white as she was!
Frostgaze was beside her, pristine white as snow like her. "Dad," Shypaw mewed soft and husky. "I love you." She buried her face in his fur like she had when she was a kit.
