There was no accusation from it. Simply presenting the facts, it now waited. Seeming to understand how this hurt her, it made no effort to rush her. Trembling and clinging to it, she fought to make sense of what it had given her. But she seemed stuck and unable to move forward.

"Narrator," it rasped.

She could not face it. Instead she buried her face into her hands and let her finger nails bite into her skin. The stab of this eased the pressure in her chest.  When her hands dropped, she noticed the darkening place on her once white shirt. Doffing the vest and letting it fall to the ground, she looked more closely. She recalled smearing the dirt there, but there was more then that now.

Hesitantly, her fingers unbuttoned the shirt and slowly peeled the wet fabric from her skin to reveal the wound beneath. Gashed, she had bled. Instead of gushing, it now seeped. Once red as evidenced by her shirt, now a thin yellow. Crusted on the edges and beefy in the center, the wound throbbed. The metaphor of her suffering made real.

A long white finger traced the perimeter of her hurting. There was fear in this touch. She could sense that her weakened flesh brought it a terror that it had not known. Then it sighed.

"You called it, it into being."

Its voice was weak, long unused.

Narrator still refused to glimpse what it was becoming. The changes in it were as palpable as the fingers it pressed into the middle of her wound. Gasping, but making no effort to stop it, she clasped a hand around its wrist. It continued to probe, seeking.

"What, what is in you?" it asked.

A question that she could not answer. It understood this silence and its fingers fell away. Pulsations of pain continued. The distraction was welcome. It took her hands in its own for a moment, then pulled them away so that it could carefully work the buttons. Then it smoothed the fabric down over her breasts and stomach, tucking the ends into her pants. Fussing over the way the fabric laid, it tugged at her waist band. Pulling the vest into place, the attire almost looked as it had before. Just the marring of the white. It seemed satisfied with its work.

"Why do you, you hate us?" it asked, sounded tired from its efforts.

She did not answer its question, feeling like the answer was too complex. Not ready to face that question, she kept her silence. A part of her was certain that she had never known this creature, but there was another small part that seemed to know it. There was not hate. A longing to let it in. A desire to bring it into her heart and to shelter it there.

"P-please, look, look at me," it croaked.

Now she could not evade its image any longer. Raising her head, she gazed upon it. Shape had gathered from the previous chaos. It loomed over her, bending its back so that it was close to her face. Dark clung to the edges, but the central form was glowing white and smooth. No face, but a head which suggested that one was to come. It had not yet fully revealed its shape to her. But she could sense that it wanted to.

"No, you are re-revealing it to, to me," it said.

Its voice was strong now. Husky and trilling. It struggled to form its ideas but was quick to read her.

"Sp-speech so new," it wheezed.

"How can you speak with out a mouth?" she asked.

It gave a gesture similar to a shrug, but it didn't seem to have the required shoulders.

Narrator trailed her fingers over its face where a mouth should be, leaving behind a grey smeared line. With her thumb nail, she pressed hard and cut the flesh in the middle of the grey, splitting it into two. The blood oozed out black. At its core there was still darkness. She wished that she could fill it with light. But somehow she knew that this one was different then the others.

Was this a naming then?

Humming, it pulled at the broken skin by moving its face. Stretching, the skin slowly pulled open. Little ribbons stretching between the upper and lower lips that were starting to take shape. Revealing square black teeth and a long thin black tongue which was quick to slide out, tasting and tearing the lips completely apart. The grey faded as the lips took shape, leaving them as white as the rest of the face.

Opening its mouth wide, it cawed. Coughed with a dry croaking and then cawed again. That wordless sound seemed more familiar to it. Running its tongue over its lips offered it no moisture. Looking over her shoulder to the pool they had left behind, it longed to drink. But it would not leave her until it had fully come to being.

"T-t-tell my st-story," it begged, touching her with trembling hands that were now fully formed.

The fingers were too long and the palms narrow. Instead of nails, black claws. The back of the hands and each finger had ridges that cut horizontal lines. Unlike its face, the hands were covered with textures. The skin was flaking and moved over the bones beneath as though not fully attached, easily wrinkling and tenting up. Its fore arms stretched out thin but came up to thick and muscular upper arms and shoulders. The skin on its forearms the same as the hands.

"Raven," Narrator whispered, finally giving it a name.

It had expected the story to come first. The name struck hard, penetrating deeply to the sleeping self. It arched its back and flung its head. Mouth wider now and tongue lolling, it wailed with painful pleasure. It could feel waking and clawing at its heart.

The gloom that had clung around her now stretched outward and bloomed into feathers that wrapped around it from the back. Narrator walked around it to see the origin. She easily walked beneath the arch of its body and found that large wings were stretching out from just behind its shoulders. Along the spine, the feathers moved in opposite directions, leaving a thin white line of skin visible. The wings connected to it from its shoulders down to the sway of its hips.

"You had once been nothing but white," she said.

Reaching up, she touched the place between its wings, where she could feel the shoulder blades sliding beneath skin and muscle. It stretched itself into the arch further, until its head was touching the ground. How tall did that make it? It had already been taller then her. Letting her fingers glide downward, she felt it shiver. Stopping at the crest of its buttocks, she encouraged a tail to grow. Feathers fanned out, pulling from him.

"You had once owned the skies. The only creature with wings," she whispered. "But you had become lonely." The words she spoke were meaningful to it, but they seemed secondary to her purpose.

It sighed, seeming to find great pleasure in this changing. A response that she couldn't understand. The process looked painful. Why did it embrace this? It had sought her out and seemed to have wanted this from her. Now what was she creating? No, not creating. Restoring. This was what it had always been and had longed to return to.

"You sought out another that was like you, but the skies were empty. You skimmed above the earth, but dared not touch it. There had been a law that divided heaven from earth."

As it stretched out its wings, she returned to stand before it. The wingspan reached a length double its height, but this was not fully appreciated until it straightened itself and stood before her again. It was massive. Its chest more then twice the width of her own. Muscles undulating beneath its skin, seeking their place.

"But you did not stay alone forever," she said as she ran her hands along its neck and down its chest.

She had expected it to have sprouted feathers over its face and frontal features, but this had not happened. Beautiful contrast of smooth skin and embracing feathers, it pleased her. Glad that it had not been completely consumed by the darkness, she took its face in her hands and pulled it closer to her. Covering the last of the distance between them by standing on her toes, she kissed it on the forehead.

"There had been a time when another white being had roamed the earth. Upon it you had ridden when your wings could no longer carry you."

Her breath danced along its skin with each word she spoke. Unable to maintain standing on her toes for long, she went back to flat footed. But it accommodated by leaning further down, keeping their faces close, but not daring to touch her.

"You could shift from bird into human and back again without effort," she murmured.

Pressing both her thumbs against its face, she drew two more lines. It opened these new eyes, bleeding black blood down its white face. Large black orbs scrutinized her. Finding it unsettling that there was no iris, but instead an endless pupil, she shifted her gaze to the lacking nose. This time no touch was required, just thinking called the shape into being. A nose not much different then her own.

"Hunters came upon the land and struck it down," she all but screamed it.

Gripping hard on its shoulders she felt her legs go weak. It wrapped her in its arms and supported her. She felt small and fragile in its embrace. But there was only gentleness there. Sobs shook her body and her tears fell upon it. Feeling all the pain it had known, it felt only a shadow of it. The flesh was more pressing then the history she painted for it.

"There had been no chance to defend yourselves. You had never known a creature that had killed another," she continued, this story burning in her mouth and demanding release.

Strong muscles marked hard lines over its chest, giving testimony that it had the power to fly. Around its waist more black feathers emerged and traveled down its thighs, but stopping at the knees. While the thighs had been heavy, the lower legs were thin and looked like its fore arms. Its feet were those of a bird. Four even toes with one pointing backwards.

"In your grief, you fell upon the earth and went to the body. Its black blood stained your feathers."

Raven looked down at the grey skin over its hands and felt a grief that was as old as time. Remembering all that it had been, it fell to its knees and cawed up at the sky. The vibrating voice brought down thunder and rain washed over the place that now had form. Without her notice, this place was now a small clearing within huddled pines.

"Death calls you. Summons you as its herald. Crying out the coming of death and then feasting on its bones."

Narrator touched her fingertips to the teeth in Raven's gaping mouth while it continued to relive the loss that it had forgotten. This touch grew them into sharp fangs. It now had the ability to rend flesh with both tooth and claw. It could both be a harbinger and an executioner.

"The Horse will never run in this world again," she declared what it had already remembered.

It was then that she knew this delicate and beautiful looking creature was a male even though it was effeminate in appearance.

He could see Horse's death. The white flesh torn open. He had cashed away the men that had begun to cut away her flesh. They could not have her!

"Some names and lore should remain forgotten," she mouthed the words without sound.

He looked at her, black tears trailing down his face.

"No," he hissed. "I n-need to re-remember."