There were once two cousins of a small village. River Shadow, an angler, daughter of Moon Harvest, a hunter, was a stout and solid woman of serious character. Autumn Willow, a hunter, daughter of Tall Watcher, an angler, was as tall as her father, and slender as her tree-namesake, and flighty and cheerful as the wind. River Shadow was the younger by two seasons, more studious, and always struggling to keep up with her more athletic cousin. Autumn Willow was kind and gentle, and seldom grew angry or annoyed with her slower, less energetic cousin.

The two travelled in the late summer on the path which both had tread many times with Tall Watcher, as he took them to his place to catch fish. Tall Watcher preferred to catch where no other fishers might be, and so walked for half a half-day to an isolated lake, where he kept a cache and a boat. This was their first trip without Tall Watcher, whose aging knees prevented him from making the journey.

At the halfway point of the trip, River Shadow sat down by the base of a large oak. "That's enough, Willow, I think. At least for a while." She put her pack down and removed her hood. "It has to be about time for lunch."

Autumn Willow giggled at her cousin, but still took the bow from her shoulder. "It's a warm day." The bow and her quiver of arrows made their way to the mossy ground, as did her own pack, though Autumn Willow stayed on her feet. "You get out some bread. I'm not ready to rest yet." She stretched, pushing herself up on her tiptoes and reaching for the sky, settling back on her heels with a deep breath. "Don't much care that Father couldn't come with us this time. We don't have to listen to constant complaints."

"Heh." River let out a short breath. Tall Watcher, her father's brother, had passed his fishing duties on to his niece. Now twenty, it was her responsibility to bring back fish to help the village last the winter, and like her uncle, she preferred the isolation of his favourite place.

Autumn Willow, for her part, was never much of an angler. Her gift was archery, hunting. She travelled with her cousin so that River Shadow would have company, so that there was help for any dangerous situations the angler might get herself into, and to take care of the camp and help prepare the fish for the return trip. Autumn Willow's presence also meant that perhaps the two women wouldn't be eating fish exclusively, as she might catch a rabbit or a duck.

"If you want to sit and eat," the elder cousin continued, "then I'm going to have myself a little jog down the trail." She pulled her dark braid forward, checking to make sure it was intact. River wasn't sure how Willow could possibly keep that braid in one piece, and so clean, when it was nearly half the length of her body. River's preferred option was to cut her light hair short, close to her head. Dark eyes met dark eyes. "If you're alright."

"Yes, of course." River Shadow smirked. "It's just the forest. What could possibly trouble me here? There will be no wolves in the daytime."

"No fear like when we were children, eh?" Autumn Willow laughed, before turning on her heel and running off.

River halfheartedly threw a pebble after her cousin's mockery. The two had got lost fifteen summers ago, only for a few hours after lunchtime, when they had been easily discovered by more experienced foresters. Willow had been brave, brave enough for both girls, but she had never let River forget that the younger cousin had needed that bravery to keep from crying. Now the two of them laughed about it; both of them were much more capable of finding their directions and their way home, even in unfamiliar territory.

And this was not unfamiliar territory. Sure, they stayed to well-known paths, as there were stories, deep mysteries, about what lay in the darker woods, but there was no need to even consider such things as they weren't going in that direction. If they stayed on the path, there would be no ancient spirits to bother them.

River opened her pack and pulled out the flatbread they had packed for the journey, making sure there was enough for both of their lunches. She hesitated, considering whether or not that alone would serve her purpose, then deciding that it would. There was no need to break into the fresh food yet, or the preserved meat. There was enough for a few meals, but River wasn't hungry enough for a meal, and she doubted that Willow would be that hungry either. They could sup properly after they had made camp at the lakeside.

Autumn Willow had always been better than her, in pretty much any endeavour that wasn't angling. Willow had been a healthy and cheerful baby, had been an athletic and intelligent child, and had grown up much more beautiful and much more desired. River Shadow had been a step behind right from her first day, born ill and barely surviving, and that illness haunting her childhood. Her cousin's care and kindness, and often pity, had helped River keep up with the others, but her weaknesses had left her feeling much less useful than most of the villagers. The day that Tall Watcher had told her to come with him in Willow to catch fish had been transformative, as the patient and intense girl had found a talent for something that she had never considered before.

River Shadow had found her calling that day, and Autumn Willow had been much relieved; the idea of following her father and sitting all morning in a canoe waiting for rods to bend seemed devastatingly boring, so she was happy to merely accompany her cousin and friend on these excursions rather than be expected to master the art of angling.

A caw and a flutter drew River's attention from her reverie. A raven was making its way from a nearby tree to the ground, to land near her feet.

"Well hello there," River said.

The raven tilted its head. "Hello," it croaked back.

River blinked. Was the bird speaking? Or had it just made a normal raven noise that had resolved into a word in River's mind? "Hello?" she asked, sitting up a bit.

"Food?" the raven cawed, hopping a bit closer, standing even with River's foot.

"Well isn't that interesting, someone's taught you to talk." River tore a bit of bread and held it out. "Food," she offered.

The raven let out a wordless caw and hopped a bit closer. It spread its wings. They looked oddly silver in the shadowy sunlight, instead of the pure black she was used to seeing.

"Food," River offered again, holding out the offering.

"Food?" the raven replied, moving cautiously nearer, looking at her hand.

"Curious that someone taught you to speak." She knew ravens to be intelligent, and that the cries of hatchlings were often similar to the cries of babies, but to hear one using actual human language was definitely new. Even if only two words. That was almost as intriguing as its strange silvery feathers. She wondered if the bird actually understood what it was saying or if it was just a reflexive response to seeing a person with bread.

Those silver wings spread out briefly in a surprisingly beautiful display, and River wondered if the bird was going to fly away before she could examine it further, but no, the wings folded back up and the bird moved to within reach. Willow could snatch you up easily, River thought, barely moving, barely breathing. If she intended to, anyway.

With the strange creature in front of her, River had a brief flash of jealousy. She had never been as quick, nor as strong, as healthy, as useful, as her cousin. It wasn't until she discovered angling that she had anything at all that she could say she could do better, other than perhaps sitting in one place and being quiet. And for some reason, that jealousy extended to the question of suit. It wasn't that River Shadow had never known a kiss, she had known many and then some, but Autumn Willow was the sort of young woman that never needed to spend a day or a night alone. If she wished, her bed would be full from sunset to sunrise.

Well, here was an experience that River Shadow was having that Autumn Willow wasn't: a silver-winged raven that was speaking to her.

The bird tipped its head upwards. "Food?" it cawed.

River leaned forward and the bird noticeably tensed, shifting back and preparing to leap away. The two of them stayed like that for a moment, in a temporary stalemate, until River turned her hand over and laid it on the ground. The bird inched forward, its eye focused warily on River's hand, reached out with its beak, and grabbed the scrap greedily, immediately opening its wings and flying back up to its perch on the branch. The display of the silver wing feathers was astonishing, the way they caught the filtered sunlight and glinted prettily. She watched the bird settling in the tree, nibbling on the scrap it had been given, as she lifted some of the food to her own mouth.

She imagined that they had reached some form of mutual understanding. Sharing a meal was important to forming a friendship, after all. River grinned to herself, taking another bite. The bird tipped its head up and swallowed the bit of bread it had been gifted, then looked down the trail and took flight, quickly leaving River's sight. A noise made the angler look back down in time to catch Willow's return, flushed and glowing with the exertion of her run.

"Good jog?" River asked, getting to her feet and bringing her cousin some bread.

Willow accepted the offering much less cautiously than the raven. "Yes, thank you." She took a bite, then reached for the water pouch still at her hip. "No surprises at all."

River nodded as Willow drank. She looked up to the sky, scanning the green and blue for any sign of the bird she had fed, but it seemed to have gone. A pity.

"Do you want to stop for a proper lunch, or should we keep going?" Willow asked, holding the waterskin out for River, who refused it with a wave of her hand.

"No, I've had a rest, and we're only a couple hours out from the campsite. Let's take advantage of the nice day and get there so we can set up and have a proper dinner before nightfall."

Autumn Willow smiled. "That sounds like a good plan, cousin."

Tall Watcher's usual campsite was on a cliff overlooking the lake, facing the sunrise. His cache was in a cave at the base of that same cliff. A gentle, easy path connected the two locations. In the heat of the day, River Shadow walked up the final slope to the cliff, puffing hard, two steps behind Autumn Willow the whole way, determined to keep up. It was only a few dozen more paces to the campsite, it wouldn't do to fall off now. Willow, for her part, didn't seem to notice River's difficulties, leading the way forward with confidence.

The tree cover continued almost all the way to the edge, with a small clearing where the two of them would put their tent. The clearing was a bit overgrown, no surprise as no one had been there since last autumn. The grasses would pose no problem for the campers' tent. The trees provided shelter from the wind and sun, the edge of the cliff provided a good view for following the weather (important for figuring where River Shadow would have to go to find the fish). River put the pack down and walked out to the edge. The wind in the early afternoon had grown chilly, but the sun was still warm. Out of the wind, it was still very comfortable; in the wind, it would get chilly, but not unlivable.

"I'll go to the shore and make sure all is well there," River heard Willow say behind her.

"Thank you," River replied, not turning back. She sat cross-legged on the open cliff, enjoying the contrast between the wind and sun, closing her eyes and breathing deep of the damp air coming off the lake. She remained there several minutes, being still, cooling off.

A flutter behind her caught her attention. River opened her eyes, just as a silver-winged raven passed directly over her head and landed on the bare rock between River Shadow and the cliff edge.

"Oh hello there," River said. "You followed us all this way?"

The raven bobbed its head, seemingly nodding in reply.

"I don't have any food with me."

The raven tilted its head. "Hello?"

River giggled. "Hello there."

The raven hopped closer, fanning out its silvery wings, drawing River Shadow's gaze. "Hello?"

River nodded. "Hello," she replied.

The raven's wings spread fully, but it didn't take off. Instead, it danced a bit in the sun. River Shadow found the display oddly compelling, watching the dark bird with its shining wings make small circles.

"Hello?" the raven called after a moment.

River nodded again, smiling. She couldn't seem to muster the strength to speak.

The raven hopped right up to River's feet and fanned out its wings. "Sleep?"

A noise made River sit up. "I didn't realize you were that tired, cousin," Willow said, stepping out of the clearing.

I must have been dreaming, she thought, getting to her feet. "Neither did I. Goodness. I'm sorry, Willow."

The slender huntress laughed. "It's of no matter. Let's get you a proper place to rest, then, and raise the tent."

River Shadow stretched, loosening up muscles made tight from lying on the hard ground. "That sounds like a good idea."

"A good day," Autumn Willow concluded, as she drew a bucket of water to put out the fire.

"Yes," River Shadow agreed. "The boat is in good repair, the supplies are still abundant. We will have a good excursion."

"Good omens abound."

"They do." River wondered about the silver-winged raven, and what it portended. If anything. "After my rest earlier, I'm not quite ready to sleep yet, I think I'd like to stay up a while."

Willow put the water down. "Of course, cousin. Then I will see you tomorrow." She patted River's shoulder as she walked by. "A good night."

"A good night, cousin."

The gloaming was growing cool, but the fire, low though it was, was warm. Idly, River pulled a half-charred stick from the fire, using the ashen end to draw on the bare rock. She realized, as she did, that she was sketching out the shape of a bird.

A raven.

Somehow, River was unsurprised to hear a flutter behind her, and a curious, "Hello?" from the rocky outcropping nearby.

The dim light and the low fire felt dream-like. Nothing she could see had a sharp edge. The soft sound of the water on the shore and the wind in the trees, the cool air and warm fire, all left River feeling uncertain about what was real and what wasn't.

The raven fluttered from the rocks directly onto River Shadow's lap, spreading its silver wings in front of her eyes, catching the light of the fire. It felt heavy on her legs, and heavy on her mind. River felt weighed down, unable to speak, move, act... Even to think. Fire and silver held her attention.

"Good." The voice seemed... different. Less bird-like. It still came from the bird's voice, but in River Shadow's head, it sounded timeless, human... more than human, in fact. River could tell that the sound was in her head, but that made it no less real, no less powerful. "You listen well, young angler."

The compliment made River warm, deep inside. She didn't move, basking in the glow of the fire and of the gentle words.

"Tomorrow, you will take your boat out at dawn, and head south, just beyond the three rocks. Cast your line there, and you will find all the fish you will need before the sun is high in the sky."

River felt herself nodding.

"Then you will take to the shore, and you will give the largest fish you catch to the forest. Sacrifice it there quickly, and place it by the large pine, open for the dwellers of the air and the earth. Bring the rest of your catch back here, as you would. Tell your cousin nothing of this."

Nothing, she thought, and that was all that she thought.

The raven fluttered away, but its weight remained on River Shadow's body and her mind. Still without a thought, River Shadow stood, picked up the water bucket, and doused the fire. She walked up the path to the small camp and the low canvas tent that held enough room for the two women to sleep and little else. The food had been unpacked and hung from a tree, safe from predators and scavengers. There was nothing left to do but to undress in the last light of the sun and climb into the blankets.

River Shadow woke to the light coming in to the tent, as Autumn Willow pulled the flap aside to step out. River had slept well, and was ready to wake, so she pulled the blanket aside and got up. Willow stood out on the cliff edge, as naked as when she had been sleeping, her long hair loose from its usual braid. She looked... strong. Powerful. The hunter in her element, basking in the light of the sunrise.

River felt awkward and soft in comparison. She turned away to get fresh clothes.

"Good dawn, cousin," Willow said behind her.

"Good dawn," River replied, opening the pack. "I want to get dressed and on to the water as soon as I can."

"Of course."

"The fishing is better in the early morning," she continued lamely, knowing that her cousin, daughter of a fisherman, would know almost as much as River did about fishing.

"It is." There was no mockery in Willow's tone. "The day looks to be clear and calm, too. And cool."

"I will bring a second shawl on the water, then."

"That would be wise."

River Shadow hesitated before getting dressed. There was something appealing about the way the cool wind caressed her bare skin, and the way the first sun of the day warmed her body. She didn't feel as powerful as Autumn Willow looked, but she still felt at home.

Dreams of a silver-winged raven hardly seemed to matter as she wrapped herself in soft wool leggings and a warm cloak, choosing to remain barefoot. Without another word, she made her way down to the shore, leaving Willow to do her duty as camp caretaker. That was why there were two of them, after all.

When Tall Watcher had first invited his niece, the incapable hunter, to go fishing, River Shadow had spent the majority of the time sitting on the shore, watching her uncle carefully, and carving fishhooks from moose bones, and keeping Autumn Willow company as she flitted about, doing her work to maintain the camp but also exploring the woods and hunting for small game. He had warned the two of them not to wander from the path, and they scrupulously obeyed.

The next year, she had been able to sit in the boat with him on three days, and her job for much of the rest of the trip was learning the knots and making sure that the hooks were properly tied with sinew twine to the rods. The year after that, in addition to carving a few hooks, and tying a few lines, she had helped handle the catch, and had spent a lot of time observing her uncle's technique, even being allowed to bring in a few smaller fish.

Her fourth year, she had been able to sit with Tall Watcher any time he was in the canoe, and had helped lash his rods to the boat (only one got taken overboard, and her uncle was more amused than upset). She had worked a single rod, to her uncle's three, and had been reasonably successful in catching fish. Her uncle also taught her a great deal about following the wind and water patterns and where to find the fish, what plants to look for, how some of the trees and flowers might affect their movements.

Having learned the whole of the art, River's fifth year, the year before this one, it was Tall Watcher who had been sitting on the shore observing and almost idly carving out fishhooks. He threw a line in from the shore from time to time, but only went out in the boat with River twice.

While this was her first time on the water without Tall Watcher anywhere nearby, River Shadow felt she understood his lessons well enough that he might as well have been there.

She considered going north up the lake, so that her return trip might go with the weak current instead of against it. As she carried the light canoe to the water from where her uncle kept it, though, her opinion changed. The wind suggested that the advice she had... imagined (she was sure it was just her imagination) would be more accurate to where the fish were. She sighed, unsure of what that meant.

She pushed out to the water, paddling lightly, reminding herself of just how to manage the vessel. Here was her element, where she felt most comfortable, floating on the waves, steering in the wind. The first few strokes alone made her happy in a way that nothing else really could. Here was what she was made for. After a few experimental dips of the paddle, she was moving cleanly through the lake, headed towards the three rocks that marked where her raven had told her to cast her line.

River looked up to the cliff top to give her cousin a wave. Willow was still at the peak, naked, braiding her long black hair. She gave a smile and a wave back.

Emboldened, River put her body into paddling, feeling one with her canoe in the early autumn air. It was as close to flying as she imagined she would ever get, far better than swimming, definitely superior to the hike they'd had to take to get to the lake in the first place.

Higher up in the hills, some of the leaves were starting to turn from green to yellow, or red, or orange, marking the start of the cooler season. River Shadow and Autumn Willow would continue to live and work at the camp until the first frost, probably sometime in the next ten days, when they would decide an appropriate time to return to the village with their catch.

River found the three rocks jutting up out of the lake and positioned herself in a safe spot near the shore. She took the two flexible rods that her uncle had left her and the one that he had helped her make three years ago, made sure that the lines were properly tied and the hooks were secured, baited the hooks with bits of meat that they had brought for the purpose (she would hunt for live worms and minnows for bait in the evenings), and threw the three lines into the lake. The rods were then lashed to the crossbeams of the boat so that they wouldn't be pulled overboard by a catch. All that done, River sat back to relax.

But no sooner had River settled in than two of the rods bent sharply, and she was forced to pull them back to set the hooks. A quick check determined which of the two was the heavier, which is the first that she hauled into the canoe. A decent-sized trout. A good start. A second was brought in to follow the first, and before she could prepare the first two rods for another cast, the third started to bend.

"I'll be done for the day well before lunch," River said, half in complaint. The day was perfect for lounging on the water waiting for fish to bite, for just floating along with her avian companion and existing free of the strictures of time and space. She hadn't even noticed when the silver-winged raven had landed on the prow of the canoe as she hauled in the third fish of the morning. The bird didn't surprise her, somehow, and she mostly ignored it as she continued her work, making sure the fish would not escape from their segment of the boat while she re-baited the hooks, re-lashed the rods, and cast the lines back into the water. And it ignored her in return, she thought. It did serve as a reminder, though, of the directions she'd received the night before.

Her knife sat on her hip. She was very aware that one of these fish was going to be a sacrifice to the land, and not going to feed the village. Still, if the catch was to be this abundant, losing one, even losing one a day, would be of no real cost.

River resigned herself to having no chance to relax. As she settled in to a rhythm, she hauled in enough fish—nearly twenty!—to fill the boat, in nearly no time at all. And throughout, the raven sat and watched, barely moving, only occasionally adjusting its position to account for the roll of the waves. There was no choice but to stop; River couldn't risk putting any more fish in her boat. She looked to the raven. The raven looked back. They had an understanding.

River Shadow rowed to shore. She had a sacrifice to make.

The raven was gone as River rowed back to camp. It hadn't spoken to her, and she hadn't seen it leave. Willow saw her approach and came down to the shore, and went positively wide-eyed at the sight of the catch.

"River, you were barely away!" the elder cousin, now dressed as River was in leggings and a close cloak (and with her hair perfectly braided), exclaimed. "How did you catch so many?"

River only shrugged. "I followed my training and my intuition and... uh, there they were."

"I haven't had time to set up the trap to keep them in the cave yet."

"They'll be fine a few minutes more in the boat while we get that done."

The two of them set to work. Tall Watcher kept his cache in a small hollow where the base of a hill met the water. The lake went under the hill, but there was enough room to walk on dry land on either side of it. The cave made a good place to keep the fish before preparing and preserving them, and Tall Watcher had built a cage wall of tightly-bound wood, twine, and leather strapping, with gaps enough to let minnows and leeches pass in and out but keeping the larger fish inside. As River had predicted, it only took the two women a short while to get the wall secured in place. It took considerably longer to move the caught fish from the canoe to the now-blocked-off pool, but they managed while only dropping one back into the lake when it squirmed unexpectedly, and they left two in the boat that hadn't survived the duration—those would be the first preserved for the trip home.

"Lunch?" Willow asked after the last fish was confined in the cave.

"Please." River was famished. She'd had a very busy morning, and hadn't eaten anything herself.

Willow smiled. "I'll start the fire."

"Alright, I'll head up to camp. I want dry clothes."

River Shadow half-jogged up the hill, the chill of the morning settling in now that the work was done. She unwrapped her cloak and shook it out, hanging it over a low, heavy branch in the sun to let it dry. The chill in the air met the sweat on her skin and caused her to shiver. She was about to pull off her leggings, too, when a now-familiar flutter drew her attention.

There, perched on the sun-lit branch, sitting on her cloak, was a silver-winged raven.

"Hello?" it said, spreading its wings. The shining patterns in its feathers immediately caught River's eye. She gasped as it fluttered, her hands unconsciously continuing the motion they had begun. She took two steps towards the bird, stepping out of her last remaining piece of clothing, the cold forgotten. The bird stretched up regally and spread out its wings, and through some deep understanding, River Shadow dropped to her knees, her eyes locked on those silver feathers.

The warmth from the fire the night before came back to her.

"The earth is very pleased with your offering, daughter of woman," the raven said, its voice once more echoing in her head in that ageless, beyond-human way. An inordinate joy flooded her at those words, a feeling she was not familiar with. To call it 'happiness' seemed incomplete, unfinished, as though there was something more to it. "You serve well."

She hadn't intended to speak, but words of gratitude came out of her mouth all the same.

"You should be rewarded for your service." The otherworldly voice sounded amused. "And I know where to begin..."

As if in a dream, River Shadow looked over towards the edge of the cliff. The sun had shifted, it was just rising in the east. Or it was rising again in the east. She was seeing a memory of that very morning, seeing...

Autumn Willow

... her cousin standing on the rock, overlooking the lake. Naked. Hair loosed and blowing in the gentle breeze.

In the early morning, the image had evoked a sense of envy. Now, River Shadow looked on her cousin's body with a different sense altogether, one of hunger, of desire. A desire she had never harboured for anyone before. She had taken the usual dalliances, spent more than a few nights with others in the village, but none had ever struck her the way that Autumn Willow did in that moment.

Somewhere in the distant reaches of her mind, she knew that the raven, or whatever was taking the form of the raven, was manipulating her feelings for her cousin, but it did not matter. Looking at her image, even though it was a memory from the morning, was a far more powerful experience than that knowledge could be.

Time passed backwards, then, and River looked on her cousin the night before, already asleep when River had come back up to the camp, naked atop the blankets they shared. The moonlight in the night had only barely been enough to show River where Willow lay so that she wouldn't disturb her cousin climbing into the tent, but now it shone in full brightness, her body outlined in the same silver glow that the raven's wings made in the firelight. And in her mind, she saw Willow waking at her entry, something which did not happen, and gathering her carefully into a loving embrace, and the two of them sharing a kiss so deep, so tender, that even now River could taste it.

You have never been alone together, not once, not since you were children.

You have never had a chance to explore the growing love you felt for one another.

You finally have been given the opportunity.

In the dream, it was Willow's hand that drew out the heat between River's legs, but knelt there on the forest floor and staring into the sky, it was River's own hand that did the work. And she tried to keep quiet, but her own voice betrayed her, and loudly, even as it had in her imagined memory of the night before.

She had not expected an answering cry from the shoreline.

Her vision clearing, her mind clearing, she looked to the raven.

"Fantasies and dreams may be shared," the bird said, as if in explanation. "Memories flee away as quickly as they came."

"She will not remember," River Shadow said, understanding.

The bird seemed to nod. "Not as you will."

The sound of her cousin's pleasure was burned into her heart. She could hear it when she closed her eyes, both coming up from the lakeside and echoing forward from a passionate night that never happened.

When River opened her eyes, the bird was gone. The smell of the campfire on the shore drifted up to her. Her knees ached from being pressed to the ground for so long, and her fingers were sticky. She quickly got to her feet, tidied as best as she could, and got herself a fresh pair of leggings. Her cloak had dried enough that she threw it back over herself, wrapping it quickly to stave off the chill.

Carrying some of their supply of fresh vegetables and meat, as well as a clay pot for cooking, River headed back down to the lakeside.

Willow was knelt by the shore, washing her hands in the water. She had removed her own cloak and was bare except for her leggings. She stood and turned, hearing River's approach.

She was flushed, her skin a shade darker than usual.

"Cousin," she said, greeting River. She seemed slightly out of breath. "The heat of the fire and of the sun..." She shrugged.

"You have no need to explain to me," River said, trying not to stare at Willow's small, shapely breasts. "The fire is going. That's all I worry about."

"And you've brought lunch down, which is good, since I'm hungry." Willow quickly moved to take the gathered food from River's arms.

Their hands met, as they did. As did their eyes. River felt her face growing warm.

As if nothing had happened at all, Willow took the supplies and put them down on a small clean blanket she had prepared, leaving the food there and taking the pot to the lake to fill. But River had seen her expression. She worried she might have been reading into it a bit more than she ought to.

The raven's words came back to her. Fantasies and dreams may be shared.

"Willow?" River said, tentative.

"Lunch," Willow replied firmly. But her tone left no question in River's mind, not that time; her tone said, 'we'll talk after we eat.'

They didn't talk after they ate. River took the soup pot and gathered up the scraps and their various cooking implements, taking them out in the canoe to a nearby spot on the shore to clean up. Tall Watcher had been very clear about not disposing of food near the campsite. River agreed with him, thinking that attracting scavengers to where she might sleep was a bad idea. There was something meditative about the task, between once more floating quickly across the water, and the slow, gentle, deliberate act of rinsing and thoroughly cleaning the utensils in the lake.

She wasn't surprised when, upon laying the various cookware out in the sun to dry, a fluttering sound caught her attention.

She didn't turn. She didn't want to see the silver wings, not yet.

"What are you doing to us? To me?" River asked. She was curious, not aggressive, in her questioning, careful to keep her tone polite and deferential.

She received no reply.

River could picture the bird. She had seen it often enough. She could trace its regal form in her mind, the patterns of black and silver that could be formed as it stretched out its wings.

"Who, or what, are you, raven?"

She received no reply.

She imagined the raven tilting its head curiously. She could hear its voice, that first, fatal word, the memory of Hello? ringing in her ears. And then the memory of the second, otherworldly voice.

She pictured Autumn Willow, dressed only in her leggings, hearing that same voice, staring at those same silver wings. Seeing her eyes pulled helplessly to the patterns of sun reflecting off and filtering through feathers. She imagined Willow listening to that other voice, listening to the directions she was given, helpless to do anything but imagine River doing the same.

River spread her cloak out on the warm rock in the sunshine.

"And why have you come to me?"

She received no reply.

River pictured Willow, captured in the raven's sway, kneeling, helpless. She pictured Willow imagining her, in the same predicament, as she knelt on her cloak, the soft fur lining keeping her knees from the rough hardness of the ground. Even then, she could feel the warmth in the rock, seeping up through her garment, combining with the sun above to heat her to her very core.

It was a soft hand on her bare shoulder that she felt next.

Fly with me, child.

The exhilaration was like when she was on the water, feeling like she was one with the canoe, speeding over the lake, seeing only the silver streaks like the sun sparkling on the waves. The world resolved into blue and black and green, and she was travelling faster than she ever had, faster than she ever imagined possible. She found that by imagining the stroke of the paddle in the water, she could turn on the path laid out before her, even pressing into the inevitable current she was caught up in, revelling in the resistance, however temporary, however hopeless.

It was a charge like none other she'd ever felt before. A thrill she could never imagine replicating, not by herself.

But she wasn't by herself.

A raven perched on her shoulder, whispering in her ear, guiding her. The only guide she needed, or wanted.

River Shadow couldn't help herself. She turned with the current, let herself be carried away. She didn't know where she was going, she just let the wind and the water and the warmth take her where they would.

Her hands, guided by some will not her own, had found themselves inside her leggings, caressing damp flesh, creating bursts of light and heat that worked together with the vision of the raven's whispers to push her inevitably towards one conclusion, and only one, and as light and sound and heat and love resolved themselves into an unmistakable face and voice.

Autumn Willow.

Who she knew, somehow, that at that very moment was having an experience like her own.

Energy exploded within her, and her voice was unencumbered, unrestrained, unembarrassed. She fought to catch her breath, still swept up in the magic of the moment, trying to make sense of everything, of anything, and realizing as she lay half-naked and spread out on the sun-heated rock that she didn't care if there was any sense to be made in the first place. She was caught now in the current, and there was nothing to be done, and what that meant would be revealed to her, or not, and she was not concerned with the knowledge.

She was not concerned, because that current could, and would, make her fly again.

A fluttering of wings caught her attention, and the raven flew over her, showing her the way that she would go.

The way that she would later go.

She had to speak to her cousin, first.

Once she caught her breath.

Autumn Willow helped River Shadow land her canoe.

Both women were nude. Neither were concerned.

"You look beautiful, cousin," River Shadow said as she stepped out of the vessel.

"You are breathtaking," Autumn Willow replied.

The two of them embraced, closely, tenderly, sharing warmth in the cool air. Though they desired each other, their touch, and their kiss, was chaste. They knew what was to come, and they had no need to hurry.

Together, hand in hand, they walked up the hill to their campsite. Autumn Willow had taken the blankets from the tent and spread them out on the rocky cliff. There they lay down together.

"It began yesterday," Autumn Willow said, lying on her side, her fingers slowly travelling back and forth over River Shadow's chest and belly, down to her navel, up to the space between her breasts, "when I left you by the side of the path, to go for a run."

River Shadow listened, hearing, learning, and enjoying the feel of her cousin's fingertips on her body.

"It was my mistake," Autumn Willow continued. "I strayed from the path. Something, I hardly even remember what now, caught my attention, and there I met a raven with silver wings. And she spoke to me with the voice of hundreds, and I couldn't resist. I told her all about you, and me, and why we travelled in the woods."

Autumn Willow's fingertips brushed over River Shadow's nipple. River Shadow moaned softly, still listening to her cousin's story.

"Any time we were apart, the raven would visit me, and would teach me more, and more. Guiding me further, and further."

"Yes," River Shadow breathed. "It was the same for me."

"When you went to clean the dishes," Autumn Willow continued, her fingers climbing high enough to touch River Shadow's lips, "I couldn't help myself. I tried to keep from looking at the bird, but I could see her in my mind. I could hear her voice, even without hearing her speak. And I could imagine..."

"Me," River Shadow replied, delighting in the way Autumn Willow's palm grasped her soft breast.

"You." Autumn Willow planted a soft kiss on River Shadow's shoulder. "Though I was kneeling here, on the cliff, I felt like I was running wild through the woods. The heat of the sun and the warmth of the breeze surrounding me. I ran faster, and faster, and the whole world seemed to blur into green and sliver and black, and there I saw you, on the edge of the lake, and I knew what you were feeling, what you were doing."

River Shadow nodded as best as she could.

Autumn Willow rolled up onto her knees, straddling River Shadow, and leaning down for a deep, slow kiss. River Shadow thrilled at the sensation, which seemed to spread warmth and joy through her entire being.

"I knew then," Autumn Willow began,

and the two women continued together,

"How much I love you."

They smiled to each other.

River Shadow could feel Autumn Willow's desire to continue, to go further, as much as she could feel her own desire for Autumn Willow to do so, but the two of them waited, anticipating the flutter of silver wings that they knew would be coming.

"Your eyes are green," River Shadow said, making conversation. They had not been, a day before.

"Yours are blue," Autumn Willow replied.

Neither woman was surprised at their own change, nor that of her cousin.

Both of them looked to the forest. No raven emerged, but a tall woman, as nude as they were, with silver-black hair swirling down to her ankles, solid black eyes, a sharp hooked nose, dark lips, smooth dark skin, full breasts, a soft full figure, large half-erect cock, and powerful, muscular legs. And yet both of them knew that this was the raven they had both been visited by several times in the past day.

"Beloved daughters," the raven said, kneeling down at the edge of the blanket, her voice seeming to come more from within the women than from the raven's mouth. "You have given yourselves to me and to each other. You have sacrificed to the earth. You have brought this ancient spirit of the forest great pleasure."

"Thank you," River Shadow and Autumn Willow said together, as one.

"Once, spirits like us were the great power in the world," the raven continued. "We shaped the destinies of all creatures who walked and flew and swam, every tree and ivy and hedge that grew everywhere. But our favoured daughters, gifted with intellect beyond instinct and the power we had once reserved for ourselves to change the world around us, outgrew the spirits who had made them, and spread through the land. Most never forgot where they came from, and continued to revere us, and praise us in gratitude, but they were beyond our reach. Yesterday, by straying from one path, beloved daughters, you have been brought back to another.

"Though I know, beloved daughters, that you are not going to bring about a revolution. You will not bring hundreds of worshippers to my doorstep, you will not revive the powers of the old spirits." The raven smiled. "You are a project of my vanity, not of my ambition. Perhaps I am doing this as a reminiscence of how things once were, as a way of reliving the glory of days past."

Autumn Willow climbed off of River Shadow, took two steps towards the raven, and sank to her knees. River Shadow half-crawled her way to kneel next to her cousin on her right, their thighs touching, their hands clasped together.

"Every year when you return, you will find the fish and game more than abundant. You will be revered among your people."

Together, the women replied, "We will give you thanks for your bounty."

The raven held each of them, one hand on River Shadow's right cheek, one on Autumn Willow's left cheek. "Your children will be gifted and renowned. Perhaps," she smiled, a gleam in her dark eyes, "perhaps even more than you will be." The raven stood and walked around them, lying back on the blanket. "Come to me, beloved daughters."

River Shadow clasped Autumn Willow's hand harder, and the two of them turned to each other. There was agreement in their eyes. They shared a warm kiss.

"It was your stepping off the path that attracted her attention," River Shadow said to her cousin. "You should be first."

Autumn Willow nodded, smiling. "Thank you, cousin. It was, however your sacrifice that granted us her favour. But I will have the honour."

The two of them rose. Then River Shadow said, "I will make her ready." She knelt down again by the raven's side, and began stroking her cock until it grew hard. "It seems a spirit's member is not unlike a human one," she said with a grin.

The three women laughed. Autumn Willow straddled the forest spirit and descended upon her, taking her inside with a moan of great pleasure. As she did, River Shadow felt herself being filled, as though she were the one riding the ancient power and not her cousin, and she gasped. Autumn Willow noticed, and seemed to understand, and began to thrust against the raven, fucking herself on that hard cock. River Shadow felt every motion, but with no body to brace against, could do little but slump over, falling across the raven's soft belly and onto her breasts as she felt sexual ecstasy quickly welling up inside her. It was all she could do to slip the raven's nipple in her mouth, earning a sweet moan from their captor / benefactor, whose hand reached up to pet River Shadow's head.

That touch alone, being touched by the forest spirit, was a joy unto itself. It brought back the rush of travelling the current of light, of flying over the waters and following them into eternity, and her body and mind passed forever into that timeless space of flight and power and knowledge and reverence and before she could make and sense of it, she heard Autumn Willow's orgasm beginning, and felt the liquid warmth deep within her own body which set her to gasp and spasm and lose control of herself again, somehow rolling onto her back to place her head where her mouth had been only a moment before and cry out to the open sky, her hips bucking against nothing, well, nothing physical.

And then Autumn Willow was on top of her, and kissing, and caressing, and she could feel the warm stickiness on her cousin's leg meeting her own, and they were lost in a new passion, a passion that had been building uncontrollably for the past day, lost in the raven's spell they twisted and turned together, one pressing over water, one running over land, both beings of wind and light and beauty. Hands met and crossed and held, breasts pushed against breasts, cunts against cunts, and the two of them once more ceded self to each other and gave in to a second orgasmic wave of energy bursting through them and echoing back over and over and over again until they lay side by side, almost too tired to move,

and then the raven stood over them, and wordlessly knelt, and put her hardness into River Shadow's slit, and started to thrust. Autumn Willow's breathless gasps beside her told River Shadow that her cousin felt every inch as readily as she did.

River Shadow barely had the energy to do more than squirm delightedly and enjoy, and Autumn Willow proceeded to bury herself in River Shadow's breasts much as she had done to the raven when Autumn Willow was riding the spirit. The effect was electric. River Shadow felt as if she had been struck by lightning, over and over again, a painless, spiritual lightning that threw her whole being into convulsions of purest happiness. Then she felt as if she was lightning, racing down the waterway that was her namesake in an endless flash of blue and silver, roiling the world with the thunder-struck sound of her travelling light-song. She was filling with new energy and excitement and the raven's warm love and the sound of Autumn Willow's delighted orgasm, and then...

It was done. Almost as suddenly as it began.

The three women lay together in a tangled mess of a heap. Autumn Willow's braid had come undone, her long dark hair splayed about wildly. All three of them were covered in kisses and dirt and fur and fluid. The cool air felt nice against River Shadow's heated body, and wonderful to breathe in deep, which she was.

"Will you stay with us?" Willow asked, unmoving.

"I cannot," the raven, her voice still distant and otherworldly, replied. "It has taken all my power, very near it, just to accomplish this. I will be a bird and little more for some months after this, starting when the sun sets. And you have a great deal of work to do; you are only here a short time, yourselves, and you have much to accomplish. And you will have each other's company." Her unhuman voice took on a teasing tone. "Don't spend so much time enjoying each other's company that you forget the work."

River giggled at the thought, still lying on her back, exhausted. For some reason, the image of returning home with a stack of live fish in her pack because she and Willow had spent the days making love instead of working struck her as terribly funny.

Willow let out a small laugh, too. "Be sure you do not spend so much time in our minds that we have no thoughts left for the work," she retorted.

The raven stood, and already she seemed diminished, somehow. Or perhaps River was feeling bigger, as though she had taken a part of the spirit within herself. Which, she reflected, she had, in a way.

"You have little worry of that, daughters of women," the raven was saying. "If it had been my goal to keep you from your work, there are more effective ways. Though," she admitted, shaking her hair out, "there are few methods as fun." She seemed to grow a bit sad and distant. "I have missed the time I used to spend walking among the daughters of women. But all things change."

"We will return," Willow said almost sympathetically, sitting up. "Year after year we will return. Every autumn."

"Not every autumn," the spirit said with a mysterious smile. "You will not come next year. After that, yes, every year you will be here, and you will find the bounty every autumn that you found this year, but next year you will not come."

River was prepared to object. She had taken up her uncle's angling secrets, and while she wasn't the only fisher in the village, clearly with the help of the raven she would be the most successful. Why would they not return next year? But as she looked up at the forest spirit, she felt a familiar weight, like that of the raven sitting on her lap and on her mind from that morning—had it been only that morning!—and she knew that it would be true. The raven's words had the force of prophecy. And she could tell that Willow was having the same experience.

"I will look forward to your return, daughters of woman," the raven said, turning aside. Her black and silver hair drew River's attention, and the sun seemed to grow very warm and bright. She felt tired, and closed her eyes, she thought only for a moment, but when she opened them later, the sun had moved in the sky, and the raven was gone.

So was Willow. No, she wasn't gone, a noise by the tent site told River that Willow was nearby. River got to her feet, feeling stiff and sore and absolutely amazing. Willow was on her knees, lashing together thick fallen branches, making a structure for smoking the fish. She had put her leggings and shoes back on, but had not covered herself from the waist up.

She looked up as River approached. "Enjoy your nap?"

River stretched. "I did, thank you." She hesitated. "Did... did that all.. just..."

In response, Willow stood, walked over to River, and wrapped her arms around her cousin, kissing her deeply. River melted into her embrace.

"It happened," Willow whispered. "And it will happen again."

Autumn Willow and River Shadow returned to the village with such a significant load of fish that they could barely carry it. Taken with the significant summer harvest and the good autumn hunt, the fish made the winter survival easy, and provided a little variety in place of the moose and fowl that had been taken by the hunters.

As the dark days started to grow longer, though, it became clear that the raven's prophecy would come true, and neither Autumn Willow nor River Shadow would be travelling to angle that autumn. Both cousins began to show significant signs of pregnancy.

One warm summer night, at sunset, Forest Song was born to River Shadow. The next morning, at sunrise, Raven Dance was born to Autumn Willow.

The shaman attended both births, and declared that both new sons of the village were touched by the ancients, and had mighty destinies ahead of them.

And as the boys, close as brothers, grew, they would often play around the forest. And every so often, when they did, a silver-winged raven could be spotted nearby, watching over them.

Autumn Willow and River Shadow took to the lake in the forest every year after that, and every year would return with their packs full-laden with fish. The two of them lived together to raise their children. Neither seemed to have much interest in entaglements. And when either would hear a villager give warning not to stray, she would smile like her cousin, and say that some things can only be better if you walk away from the path.