Eyes of Crow by Jeri Smith-Ready

feather hanging from his neck. “A Hawk’s sight is only as strong as his willingness to see. My blindness made me fail before, and I prayed I would not fail you.” He looked at her. “I have not, and I will not.”
    “Failure is final,” she said, “and so long as Arcas lives, you have not failed yet. He’ll find his way, if you help him.”
    Galen molded the soft part of the bread between his fingers, flattening it into a thin brown wafer. “I regret that my son’s confusion has brought strife between you.”
    “If he pretends to be something he’s not, what future can we have?”
    “He is a coward.”
    Rhia was taken aback at Galen’s harsh words, though she didn’t disagree with his judgment. She had ascribed the same word to herself for denying her own Spirit.
    “A coward, for not defying his father’s wishes?” she said. “Have you made it easy?”
    “It doesn’t have to be easy. It just has to be done.”
    “Then let him.”
    “He’s a man, not a boy. I do not ‘let’ him do anything anymore.”
    “You’re his father. He craves your approval and always will, because he respects and loves you. Tell him you know he’s Spider and that you accept him for it. Only then will he accept himself.”
    Galen’s patient expression eased her concern. “I know what I must do, Rhia. Give me time to be human.”
    She silenced herself with the rest of her meal, chastened but not regretting her words. Whether she and Arcas ever renewed their love, she wanted him to be happy. She recalled her last glimpse of him through the trees, how empty and lost he had looked.
    “What did you think I would be,” she asked Galen, “if not Crow?”
    A brief smile flickered over his lips, as if he were embarrassed to share his theory. “Crow is wise in the ways of death, has a strong understanding of right and wrong and an enormous ability to solve problems.” His voice stooped to a whisper. “But Raven is wise in all things. She moves and sees through time and space.”
    The back of Rhia’s neck tingled. Raven, not simply another Spirit, but the Spirit Above All Others. Mother of Creation. “But Raven never—”
    “Never lends Her Aspect to a human, not since anyone can remember. The Aspect of Raven would make one more powerful than everyone else and upset the balance among humans. We live in harmony because we are different but equally essential to the whole. But some say that in extraordinary times, when the survival of our people is at stake, Raven will bestow her Aspect upon one young woman or man, who will be able to go anywhere, inhabit any time, to save us all.”
    The forest seemed to grow colder. “And you thought—” she almost didn’t dare say it “—you thought it could be me?”
    “The way you speak sometimes, as if you possess many times the wisdom for someone your age. It made me wonder.”
    “Hawks are also wise beyond their years.” Rhia hoped she didn’t sound obsequious. “Why didn’t you think I could be Hawk?”
    “Your gifts were obvious when as a child you foretold the deaths of animals. They say that Crow often chooses those who confront and conquer death early in life. Like you.”
    “I did hear Crow for the first time when I was ill.”
    “Perhaps at the same time, Raven also brushed you with Her wings before giving you to Her favorite son.”
    Rhia sat stunned. So many questions burned inside her, each competing for the chance to be the first one asked.
    “Before we begin our journey again…” Galen reached in his pack and handed her a small pouch.
    She tugged on the pouch’s strings to open it, and her mouth watered. An assortment of dried fruit—pears, apples and grapes—spilled like jewels into her hand. She shone a grin of gratitude upon the Hawk. If his offering was a tactic to get her to stop talking, it worked.
    As she chewed, she reflected on what Galen had said about Raven. Only a few minutes before, she had had the presumption to tell him how to handle his