The Boy and the Raven (DirkJake)

Chapter 1

There was once upon a time when a boy lived alone in a wood possessed by magic. In his humble mill by the river he trapped luck in bottles, wove love by a thread, and had tea with the kindred animals that stopped to say hello on his doorstep. The animals were kind to him. They spoke only of kind things, even about the village outside the wood that the boy knew was not so kind. The village was filled with hateful Man, and Man could only be cruel and deceiving.

"But they are not so bad once you get to know them, Jake," chittered the birds, who liked to spy over the people for sport.

But the boy knew better. His grandmother had nursed him to sleep with terrible tales of Man and how he destroyed the life of the wood and each other. Her dying breath was a plea for him to never leave the wood, for here he'd always be safe, and always be loved. The boy never dared disobey her then.

But loneliness was a tempting demon. Often he caught himself tipping back a bottle here or there, transforming into all sorts of feathered and fanged beasts to glimpse at Man committing his evils. Their strange ways frightened him, and he found no desire to venture further.

On a rainy day at the cusp of autumn, a thief wandered into the magical wood. Though drenched cold to the bone, it did not soften his stone sharp features or aggressive stature. He was young and handsome, but most of all cunning, and deviously clever. Upon his person were merely the clothes on his back and a lantern to guide his way.

The wood was haunting and unwelcoming to his presence. The light of the lantern could not stretch much farther than the furthest reach of his fingertips. Shadows of trees hid dark secrets, and the yellow-eyed glow of the animals hanging on their branches protected them. He was not afraid of their menacing glare. The thief pressed onward, searching for food, or someone to take it from if he had to.

After traveling at great length, he happened upon the boy's mill. The house that leaned snug against the large spinning wheel was quaint and charming, with stone walls climbing with ivory, carved mahogany doors, and stout chimney sprouting from the top. From the house wafted a delicious, warm smell that reminded the thief of freshly baked bread. His stomach grumbled and his mouth watered, and he followed the scent towards the beckoning mill.

Upon the windowsill was a large plate of pound cake. It was hot and coated with thick, creamy sugar that melted with the heat of the bread. The starved thief snatched it from its place and was ready to make off with it, but stumbled upon a branch that seemed to reach out and seize his ankle from the ground.

The lantern shattered in a shower of fire and glass. However the cake was saved, caught by the boy that loomed angrily over the trespassing thief.

The boy had never seen a person so close before. When he looked down on the man, he masked his curiosity and trepidation with the thunder of his raging voice. "What are you doing here human, disturbing my forest and stealing my dinner?"

The thief looked to the boy and knew he had made a grave mistake. There was power in the small frame that stood over him. His eyes were a clear green, and when the boy stared back he could not bare to hold his gaze for long. The thief suppressed his fear and raised his head proudly towards the boy.

"I am very sorry for trying to take your cake, but I am famished," said the thief. "If you could spare me a piece, I will trade it for labor or anything else you desire."

Jake narrowed his eyes. He did not trust the man. "What is your name, thief?"

"Dirk. I have nothing else to my name but what you see before you."

Jake considered the thief. He thought of his grandmother's words, her warnings, but he considered the birds and his own curiosity, and his overwhelming loneliness that tempted him to give in.