The Raven and the Reindeer

by T. Kingfisher

It is hard to see a story when you are standing in the middle of it.

Life lesson.

Another time he said, “I like the world better when it’s snowed. You can’t see all the ugly bits. It’s all pure white.”

He kissed me. That means he loves me. He hasn’t kissed me again. That means I did it wrong. When his dad made a stupid joke, Kay rolled his eyes and smiled at me. That means…that means…

Girl, same.

“She’s Circe’s cold cousin, always turning men into other beasts. Not pigs, though. She likes bears and seals and wolves and all the creatures of ice.”

As she should.

“In all the old stories, the only thing that ever won was love. And occasionally a good sharp knife.”

“Do you have a name?” asked Gerta. “I do,” said the raven. Gerta waited. The raven fluffed its beard. “I am the Sound of Mouse Bones Crunching Under the Hooves of God.” Gerta blinked a few times. “That’s…quite a name.” “I made it myself,” said the raven, preening.

“Are you a he-raven or a she-raven?” “I am a raven,” said Mousebones, “and the rest is none of your business, as we’ll not be having eggs together.”

“It is a certainty that you are going to die,” said Mousebones. “All living things die. Then we eat their eyes.”

And if the thought of not having him around to hunger after my eyeballs makes me feel a bit like crying…well, that’s my problem, not his.

“You’re lucky you’ve got wings,” she said. “Wings are the natural state of being,” he said. “You were just born unlucky.”

“Stop it,” said Janna, annoyed. “You ate a man once fifty years ago, and you relive it like it was your glory days.” “Everybody should eat somebody once,” said Nan. “Changes your mind about a lot of things. Aaha!”

Only the caterpillars seemed unbothered. Very few things bother a caterpillar.

“Um. He says he’s not doing this any more. If you won’t listen to another human tell you the truth, you’re an…addled egg that shouldn’t hatch.”