“Knowing you, you probably could. But it’s Saturday. And you’re a kid! Go to the park or something. I won’t be more than an hour.” Claire taped the paper onto the door and turned the sign back to CLOSED.
Elsa grabbed a yogurt, apple, and granola bar for herself and then handed Claire the bag as they locked up the store. “Here. You might as well actually have lunch while you’re gone.”
Claire smiled and took the bag appreciatively. “Thank goodness someone’s got their act together in this family!”
Elsa squirmed, but enjoyed the sidelong compliment. Claire waved and sped off in her car.
Walking along the riverside road that led to the park, Elsa met Cracks in the old oak trees that lined the promenade. From a low extending branch he spread his straggly uneven wings to say hello.
“Cracks! I’ve missed you,” beamed Elsa.
“Odd, ’cuz I’m awfully hard to miss.” He spread his gapped wings again, for emphasis, then smiled, shifting his weight side to side on the branch.
“I came looking for you yesterday, but all the crows were gone, even though it was sunset.”
“Aye, ’twas a very sad day yesterday.”
Elsa paused, wondering if he would elucidate, but he just seemed to drift off.
“I thought I had found the queen, but it was just Lustre standing on the throne.”
This broke Cracks out of his drift. “Lustre was standing on the throne?”
“Yes,” said Elsa.
“While all the crows were gone?”
“Yes,” she nodded again.
“Hmm. Interesting. Very interesting.” His eyes narrowed and he seemed to slip off into a drift of thought again.
Elsa felt as if she would burst with curiosity, but she also wanted to respect his space. He seemed to be pondering something of great importance.
“I hope I didn’t get Lustre in trouble,” she said after a while.
“Trouble?” exclaimed Cracks, returning from his reverie. “Oh, don’t ye worry about that, dearie. He’s doing a plenty fine job of that himself, i’n’t he?”
Elsa shrugged with an uncomfortable smile. It was all a bit confusing.
Cracks seemed to be reading her mind again. He relaxed and gave her a comforting smile. Then he tilted his head and peered closely at her.
“You’ve done excellently, Elsa.” And after a pause, “The queen did say ye had an important role to play.”
“The queen? The queen knows about me?” queried Elsa.
“Well, of course she does!” cackled Cracks as if it was common knowledge. He looked down at her wide-eyed face and cackled again from the depths of his guts. For some reason he found her shock quite hilarious.
“But why would she know about me?” Elsa asked again quietly, completely mystified.
“Well, because…” Cracks tried to contain his laughter. “Because…because…” And then he burst into hysterics again.
Elsa was trying to get a serious answer, but the longer this went on the more she found herself finding it funny as well.
“Because why?” She smiled despite herself.
“Well, because,” Cracks managed to blurt out between laughs, but he gasped so desperately for air now, it became contagious and Elsa found herself giggling.
“Because…?” smiled Elsa.
“Because,” peeped Cracks with great difficulty as his body bobbed up and down, trying to repress the laugh.
But the peep sounded so ridiculous that Elsa couldn’t help but really laugh now. And that burst Cracks’s true laugh out fully and he laughed so hard he rolled back and fell out of the tree.
That sent the two of them into another, even fuller, round of hysterics. For several minutes, each rolled around in the grass trying to stop laughing, but every time they looked at each other it would start another gale of laughter.
After much quaking, they regained control of their bodies.
“What were we talking ’bout, then?” asked Cracks at last.
Elsa snorted one more time at the ridiculousness of it all.
“I forget,” said Elsa.
Now it was Cracks who snorted. Realizing that she had just heard a crow snort sent Elsa into another fit of laughter. Her face and ribs were hurting now, but the rest of her felt giddy.
Gradually, the surges of silliness began to dissipate and at last they lay quietly staring up at the sky. A crow flew high overhead.
“The queen knows about you because any High Crow worth their feathers knows about you,” said Cracks softly.
Elsa inhaled this thought, not knowing quite what to make of it.
Cracks rolled onto his back and used the momentum to jump back up on his feet. “Do you have any snacks?”
Elsa sat up and rummaged through her coat pockets. She pulled out the yogurt and apple. Cracks tilted his head disappointedly. She found the granola bar in the other pocket.
“Ahh, that’s more like it.” He hopped a few steps closer.
Elsa opened the package and gave him half. She snacked on her lunch, staring at the river, wondering what it all meant, as Cracks pecked away at the piece of granola bar.
“Will you tell me more about the Hollowing Tree?” she asked.
“Aye, I can,” said Cracks with a satisfied little smile. It was as if he had been waiting for her to ask. “Follow me.”
Cracks picked up and flew ahead across the field. Elsa followed him into the paths that led through the woods.
“The Hollowing Tree is the place of sanctuary for the leader of the crows,” explained Cracks as he hopped along the dry, leaf-littered path. “It’s the place they can go when they need a break from the group to seek perspective. And, of course, it’s where they go when it’s time to find the name for the next in line.”
“Why didn’t she just tell someone where she was going?” asked Elsa.
“Aye, it’s a good question, isn’t it?”
They passed the crows’ court at Dead Man’s Pond and went farther on up the hill and into the next clearing in the woods. It was a crossroads. At the nexus of paths stood a great old Ash tree with wide-spreading, thick branches and a huge, knobbly, knotted thick trunk.
“Is that why you haven’t told the others where she is?”
Cracks gave a self-satisfied little smile and swiped one side of his beak with his wing tip. She waited for him to say something, but he just hopped onward towards the tree.
Of course Elsa knew this tree. She had passed it many times on her walks through the park. But she realized as she approached that she had never really stopped to take a good look at it. Above its massive trunk opened up a deep hollow in the centre of the tree. She placed her hand on one of the bumpy gnarls and leaned her head in and looked around inside the great opening. Other than a few leaves, sticks, and old candy wrappers, it was empty.
“Is this it?” she asked.
Cracks blinked knowingly, with the slightest nod.
“But where is she?”
Cracks gave a mischievous grin. “It’s quite the conundrum, i’n’t it?” he said wryly.
“Oh, Cracks. Is this all just a jest?” Elsa wondered.
Cracks’s eyes twinkled as he jumped up onto a low branch. “Anyone can put their head into the hollow of a tree, but ye can only enter the Hollowing Tree if ye know the queen’s name.”
“What’s her name?” asked Elsa innocently.
Crack leaned in and whispered very seriously, “Only the High Crows can know.”
“Oh,” said Elsa, a little disappointed. “I understand.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” giggled Cracks.
Elsa smiled and shook her head. Hanging out with a jester was fun, but it led you around in circles sometimes.
“No, I guess I don’t.”
“No matter.” He flapped his wings.
“Your auntie’s probably a-worryin’ by now.”
The cell phone in her pocket rang. Cracks flew off as she fished for it in her coat pocket.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me. I’m back. Where are you?”
Elsa searched the trees around for Cracks, but he was gone.
“Just here at the park. I won’t be long.”
“All right. I’ll put the loops on for you and then you can choose a chain.”
“Okay,” said Elsa.
“You okay?” asked Claire. “You sound sad.”
“No, I’m great.” Elsa tried to perk up. “How’s Gran?”
“Oh, you know…” said Claire with resignation in her voice. “Gran is Gran.”
“Okay, well, I’ll see you in a bit then.”
“’Kay, bye.” Claire hung up.
Elsa took one more look inside the tree hollow and tried to think of a queenly crow name.
“Silken,” she whispered. “Onyx,” she tried again. “Wintersun. Moonlight.” The breeze picked up and whistled through the hollow.
It was no use. It was like trying to guess someone’s password.
“They miss you,” she whispered into the tree, and then she turned back onto the path.
On her way back through the field, she came across a crow trying to peck the crust of a sandwich out of a sealed plastic tub. The crow was so caught up in trying to liberate its prize it didn’t even notice her approach. Pecking down at the ground and voraciously at the tub, the crow seemed almost reptilian, reminding Elsa that birds are the descendants of dinosaurs.
She realized there were several other crows spread out around the field doing basically the same thing. Their eyes and beaks were aimed down, their intent on just what might be on the ground in front of them.
Above her a few crows could be seen ambling through the sky, using the power of the wind to fuel their flight.
They must see so much from up there.
Elsa had always wanted to be able to fly. She once had a dream where she hovered and soared about a metre above a beautiful, calm, blue sea. Her mother had been there, too, and they had flown together, holding hands over a pod of leaping dolphins. It was the best dream she had ever had.
As Elsa walked back along the promenade, she watched a high-flying crow scanning over the river. Just in front of her another crow picked at the ground, barely moving away before she was within a short pace of it.
High Crow and Low Crow.
It seemed interesting to Elsa how different the approaches to seeking nourishment were—thinking only of yourself and the small prize at your feet, or taking in the vast vantage of the whole community and all its intertwining relationships while getting your needs met at the same time.
“Well, well, well,” she heard from the tree above.
“Oh, hi, Cracks,” she beamed.
“What else did you notice?” he asked.
Elsa wasn’t sure what he meant. He looked the same as before. “About the tree?” she wondered.
“No, about the crows.”
Could he really be reading my mind?
“Um, well, that flying high to seek food seems safer. I nearly stepped on that crow back there.”
“Aye,” he said with sparkling eyes, as if he was proud of her. And then he flew off again.
The shop was busy when Elsa returned. Claire answered people’s questions and helped get art pieces off the wall. Elsa was happy to see her doing a good business, but she could tell Claire was tired. Even though Claire put on a friendly face for the customers, Elsa knew she would have rather been hiding in the back making something with her hands. Or maybe just flat on the cot.
Elsa noticed the uneaten stirfry leftovers still in the bag behind the counter. She took them out and started warming them on a little hot plate behind the cot.
She is so busy taking care of everything else she forgets to take care of herself.
Elsa served out a few bites for herself and then left the rest for Claire. While chewing she fingered the beautiful winged and crowned heart they had crafted together. She sifted through the chains to find one that matched the piece.
When Elsa had started the necklace, she thought she would give it to her mom. But now that it was complete, she found herself wanting to give it to Claire. She felt a pang of guilt about that.
She decided on a thin, square-shaped silver chain. It was delicate, but strong. Like Claire. She laced the chain through the loops and held it up to admire the full effect.
“Beautiful and strong,” said Claire behind her, “just like you.”
Before she knew it, Claire had snatched the necklace from her and clasped it around Elsa’s neck. Claire circled around to see how it sat.
“Fit for a queen,” she said with a smile.
Was it terrible to wish that her mom would never get out of the hospital?
Elsa swallowed that thought. She smiled at Claire and looked down at her chest. She decided to keep it over her own heart for a while, to decide.
“Thank you,” beamed Elsa, venturing to give Claire a full gaze of love.
Now it was Claire who flinched, as if it was a bit too intense. She looked away quickly, spooning up a big bite of veggies.
“No, thank you,” Claire said through a mouthful. “Listen, I’m going to be here for hours. You can go do something fun if you want. I’ve got to take these downtimes to churn out this big order.”
“I could help,” offered Elsa.
“As useful as your little fingers would be, I refuse to become a sweatshop!” said Claire jokingly. “No, seriously, don’t you want to call a friend or something?”
Elsa’s face dropped instantaneously. Despite her immediately trying to mask it, Claire could see that Elsa didn’t have a friend to call.
“Or the library!” she blurted, trying to make up for her blunder. Claire obviously felt terrible. She fished on the desk and grabbed a twenty-dollar bill. “You could go to the mall?”
“No, that’s okay,” said Elsa, refusing the money. “I’m happy to go back to the park. I’ll just meet you at home.”
“Okay,” said Claire, looking deflated.
Boughbend circled over the outskirts for the third time.
“Boughbend, I’m getting tired!” whined the princess puffing behind him, trailed by Breezy and Careen.
He had realized he had made a grave error leaving the princess’s side yesterday to go searching. Today, he had convinced her to come with him.
“Don’t you want to find your mother?” He pressed onward.
The princess reared up her wings. “Well, of course I do! But I don’t want to kill myself doing it, do I?” She circled down to the nearest tree and put her feet down with a pout. Breezy and Careen sheepishly joined her by her side.
Boughbend flapped one hard pull to vent his frustration, then turned wing to join them. She had him by the feathers.
She panted as she adjusted her perch. “I’m positively starving.”
Boughbend remembered he hadn’t eaten for days. It was a passing thought. He looked at Breezy and Careen. “Go find her something.”
The girls picked up and flew over to a nearby cornfield. Boughbend looked at the princess and felt remorse.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
She preened herself quietly, still pouting.
Boughbend fidgeted on the branch. Words were never his strong suit. And he knew his quick temper was his weakness. The queen had reminded him many times that being protector meant protecting hearts, too, not just bodies.
“Of course you want to find your mother. You want to find her just as much as I do. I am grateful you’ve joined me in the search.”
“Do you think she’s gone to the Hollowing Tree?” the princess asked, staring off at the cornfield.
“She never has before. Your mother is a tireless queen,” he said, speaking from experience.
“Was she worried about anything?”
“Not that I am aware of,” said Boughbend contemplating.
She surely wouldn’t be going to get the princess a name yet. She’s not ready. She may never be, he thought to himself.
Breezy and Careen returned with a big, old, dry ear of corn.
“There’s a bunch more, fallen on the ground by that old barrel,” reported Careen, handing the corn to the princess.
“Okay, you stay here. I’ll go get some more,” said Boughbend, taking flight. “And stay up!” he shouted back. “There are coyote in these parts.”
Lustre had mobilized the group to search the outskirts. He feigned that this was a good way to avoid gulls as well. In truth, he wanted to be alone with the Hollowing Tree.
He hopped onto the lip of the hollow. Nothing happened. He ventured inside. Still nothing. It was an unassuming, splintery old stump. He hopped back, half-glad that nothing had happened. It would have been a great sacrilege to disturb the queen on her sojourn if he had been taken through.
“Doesn’t feel as good as the throne, does it?” said a sarcastic voice.
Lustre jumped. His eyes narrowed at Cracks. “Why aren’t you on the outskirts with the search?” he demanded, angry at himself for being startled by the lowest of the Low Crows.
Cracks ignored the question, preening his messy, misshapen wing. It was a lost cause, but he carried on very regally, as if he were the princess.
“You never should have set perch on the throne,” said Lustre, looking down his beak with disdain.
Cracks guffawed. “Oh, don’t worry, I know my place around here.” He flapped up and away.
Lustre’s eyes narrowed as he watched him fly on.
I don’t like his tone, he thought. Then a little knot of worry began to creep into his stomach. Could Cracks have spoken to that Low Crow red-headed girl?
Lustre had no idea when or even if the queen would return. How would he deal with things if the girl was, indeed, a spy? Cracks, he could handle. The queen would certainly take his word over that filthy mess. But this mysterious girl was a thorn in his side.
Queen of the Crows Page 6
