In a world where shadows danced and light flickered like a candle in the wind, Raven emerged from the depths of his solitude. He was not merely a creature of black feathers and sharp teeth; he was a harbinger of stories, woven through the fabric of existence. As he soared above the treetops, the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden glow that intertwined with the shadows of the forest below. The cloak of darkness spread over the land and he felt himself ease into the world.
Raven had a peculiar fascination with teeth. He often watched the creatures of the earth—human and beast alike—showcasing their teeth in laughter, in anger, and in the desperate grasp of survival. To him, teeth were symbols of power, of protection, and of the primal struggle that bound every living being to the cycle of life and death. It was odd how connected each creature was to the teeth that they are born with. Loosing those teeth often means the loss of health and often death.
He perched upon a gnarled branch, listening a whispered conversation among a group of humans gathered at the forest’s edge. They spoke of an ancient curse, a darkness that had settled over their village, gnawing at their hearts and devouring their joy.
“It began with a single tooth,” one of them said, voice trembling. “A child found it near the river, and since then, misfortune has plagued us.”
"Gods!" the other declared. "She didn't bring back to the village, did she?"
"No! She left it where she found it. Touching it was bad enough."
The humans continued their conversation, talking of those who had become ill, but Raven was no longer interested in their words. He considered the implicatoins of what they had said, starting out at the night with his head tilted to the side and his large eyes going wider then ever.
Curiosity piqued, Raven decided to investigate. With a flap of his great wings, he descended to the forest floor, where the glistening river wound like a silver serpent. There, nestled in the mud, he discovered the tooth. It was not just any tooth; it was a jagged, yellowed thing, bearing the marks of age and decay. Yet, as he lifted it with his claws, a strange energy pulsed through him—a connection to something greater than himself.
Raven held the tooth carefully, feeling its weight, its history. He sensed the sorrow that surrounded it, an echo of lost laughter and forgotten joy. He whispered softly, wordlessly to the tooth, beckoning the owner to come forth and the speak with him. He felt the the fine thrum of a silver cord. The owner of this tooth was no longer residing here.
With a caw that resonated through the trees, he took flight, the tooth clutched tightly in his grasp. He knew he had to return it to its rightful owner, to have a chance to break the curse that had taken root in the village.
As he soared above the land, the sun setting behind him, the shadows deepened below. He glimpsed the village nestled between the hills, smoke rising from chimneys, and the flickering lights of homes casting warm glows. He landed softly in the center of the village, where a circle of villagers had gathered, their faces etched with worry.
“Bring forth the child who found the tooth,” Raven commanded, his voice a mixture of authority and sadness. The villagers stepped back, startled by the sudden appearance of the majestic and terrifying creature.
A small girl, timid but curious, stepped forward. Her eyes were wide, a glimmer of innocence amidst the despair. She clutched a ragged doll to her chest, the fabric worn and frayed.
“It was me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I found it by the river.”
Raven lowered his head and outstreatched his claw, presenting the tooth to her.
“This belongs to you,” he said, his voice resonating with a gentle wisdom. “It carries the weight of sorrow and loss, but also the power to restore joy. You must place it back into the earth, where it was taken, and let the cycle of life continue.”
The girl took the tooth, her small fingers trembling as she examined it. “But it’s just a tooth,” she murmured, uncertainty clouding her features.
Raven cawed softly, the sound echoing like a heartbeat in the stillness of the night.
“It is not just a tooth. It holds the memories of those who came before you—the laughter, the love, the struggles. By returning it to the earth, you will release the grip of sorrow on your village. You will return the spirit that you took with you from that river.”
The girl nodded, her eyes shining bright in the moon light. She knelt at the edge of the village, digging into the soft earth with her small hands. The villagers watched in silence, hope blooming in their hearts as she buried the tooth deep beneath the soil. But was this where the thing should be buried?
"Why bury that here?" an old man asked.
"It doesn't want to be alone anymore," the girl answered.
As the last handful of dirt fell, a gentle breeze swept through the village, carrying the scent of rain and blooming flowers. Laughter erupted as the darkness that had gripped the villagers began to fade. They felt the warmth of joy returning, like sunlight breaking through a stormy sky. They hugged each other.
Raven watched, satisfaction swelling in his chest. He understood then that teeth were not just instruments of survival but also bearers of stories, of connection, of community. They represented the cycle of life, reminding every creature that even in darkness, there was always a path back to the light. Teeth were bones and bones the core of what makes a person.
With a final caw, Raven spread his wings wide and soared into the twilight sky, a silhouette against the setting sun. The villagers cheered and waved at him. He bared his sharp fangs at the darkness and thought about what his own teeth might represent. Tools to rend flesh, but also tools for the tells of stories. Teeth take lives and shape words. Which were his teeth better for?
