Authors: Michael M. Hughes
Something pricked the back of his right hand, and the sharp pain made him look up, sure the thing had found him.
A raven, as white as the first snow of winter, regarded him quizzically. It hopped up, then pecked at his hand again, more gently this time. He could still hear the screaming of the thing in the chamber, but it seemed distant now, a wind that rocks the eaves of the house, but cannot enter.
The raven hopped away from him, and he could see now that the tips of its feathers and beak were a burnished gold. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It moved away from him, slightly luminous in the dark side tunnel.
Jimmy followed it, and it led him quickly past the skull sentries and to the tunnel leading up to the cave entrance. The screaming of the thing in the chamber was little more than a whisper now, and he shut it out of his head with thoughts of his mother’s smile and his father carrying him on his broad shoulders through town.
When he reached the entrance, he looked for the raven, but it had disappeared. He stepped out into the sunlight, and its warmth was like a welcome caress.
His uncle hugged him, then dressed the wound on his forehead before they made the hike back to the truck.
He wondered if his uncle would have come after him, if the raven had not. Then he wondered if his uncle had sent the raven, if indeed he had been the raven. He had many questions, but they could wait.
“Tell me about the thing in the cave,” Jimmy Kalmaku said.
As they drove back to the village of Yanut, his uncle told him about The Faceless One.