Raven Gets an Idea
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Philothea and Raven ran in silence for a long time, thinking of nothing except putting as much distance as they could between themselves and Zeno. Philothea had no idea where they were, or if they were headed in the right direction, and she didn’t have enough breath to ask.
When they finally slowed to a walk, Raven was the first to speak.
“Should I be worried about Zoe?”
Philothea shook her head. “I sent her away,” she explained. “All the way back to the falls… Pouli too.”
“Not Bilberry Falls?” Raven marveled.
Philothea was confused. “Yes? You said I just had to be able to picture–”
“There’s a range,” Raven reminded. “Bilberry Falls is three days behind us. Most normal fae can only transport short distances, a day or less.” She broke into a broad grin. “Of course, I forget, you aren’t exactly normal.”
Philothea giggled, though she hardly knew what she was feeling at the moment. It certainly wasn’t amused. She was tired, nauseous, and emotionally disoriented.
Not only had she expended an extraordinary amount of power fighting off Zeno, but she had just learned that he, her enemy, the man she was destined to defeat, was her own brother. She couldn’t imagine harming him even before she knew they were related.
And yet, he was holding her mother hostage, threatening everyone she loved. The fae lived in fear because of Zeno. Then there were the people of Cedar Valley, weakened and overworked in Zeno’s service. Zeno was a tyrant, a murderer, a force of evil and yet, he was also a child of the Holy Creator.
The Keepers had taught Philothea to see everyone this way, drilled it into her from the moment she came into their care. That combined with her gentle nature, made it impossible for her to kill anyone, not even to save the whole world.
She breathed deeply as she walked, brushing the tears from her cheeks.
What do you want me to do? she prayed.
Unfortunately, she received no immediate answer. Of course, Philothea had enough experience with prayer to know that immediate answers weren’t really the Holy Creator’s thing.
After a time, she looked up at Raven and said, “Thank you. You risked your life for me again.”
“Hardly,” Raven answered. “He can’t kill me, you’re destined to win this, remember?”
“But I’m not destined to save you,” Philothea pointed out.
“He can’t kill me,” Raven repeated. “As long as you won’t let him.”
“You don’t know that,” Philothea objected.
Raven’s grin broadened. “Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re getting stronger every minute. Why, after our last close escape, you couldn’t even walk! Now here you are fleeing for your life through the wilderness like it’s a daily occurrence!”
This made Philothea laugh through her tears, “I mean, it sort of is at this point.”
Using her powers was getting easier. Still, Philothea thought Raven’s confidence was ill-founded. Assuming it was confidence at all and not just Raven refusing to admit she wasn’t completely self-centered.
It was perfectly clear to Philothea why someone would pretend to be kind for the purpose of satisfying their selfish desires. What she couldn’t figure out was why a kind and giving person would work so hard to appear selfish. Perhaps she would never figure out the mystery that was Raven.
They walked in silence for a few more moments before Philothea asked, “Did you know he was my brother?”
Raven thought. “I don’t know? Maybe I did. I haven’t thought about it much to be honest.” She shrugged. “Of course it makes complete sense.”
Philothea stared vacantly down at the road before her and mumbled, “Why are all of my relatives trying to kill me?”
“That’s family for you,” Raven commented.
Philothea glanced up at Raven and waited for her to elaborate with whatever tragic story turned her into her current cynical recluse self.
“If it’s any consolation,” Raven continued. “I think your grandfather wants to love you; he’s just afraid of you. Thinks you’ll follow in your brother’s footsteps.” As Raven said this, her eyes brightened, and she broke into a broad grin.
“What is it?” Philothea pressed.
“I’ve just realized how you’re going to win this,” Raven announced.
“How?” Philothea begged.
Raven’s grin only broadened. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” Philothea answered.
“You trust too easily, little one,” Raven rebuked.
Philothea threw her hands up. “Gah! Yes, maybe I do. But–”
“But if you insist on trusting me,” Raven grinned. “Then just be patient. You’ll see what I have in mind soon.”
The Fables of Para Sympan 