Raymond.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around


The raven knew not the contents of the note strapped to its delicate leg, but in its way it knew the gravity contained therein. It flew dutifully and with singular purpose, button-black eyes scanning the ground as it scrolled by below. The beach was a pale, tenuous, ribbon separating land from the wild seas, but it pointed the way toward its target.

It sought another of night-blackness, lightning-struck and vicious as a captive storm, and as the tiny shapes of horses popped up across the landscape it flew lower and more swiftly, squawking irritably each time the face that drew near was the wrong one.

Then it reached the cliffs, and its search bore fruit.

Indeed she was a storm, tall and sleek and streaked with electric white, and her bright blue eyes struck fear in the raven's heart. Insistence overpowering exhaustion, the blackbird buzzed the mare's ear and landed on the cliffside next to her, presenting its bound leg with haughty expectation.

In a hurried scrawl, the note read: