My second task over the Summer was to choose a 'Spirit Animal' I felt represented me, and then create a life story for my character from which to create illustrations. I chose a Raven- a creature permanently shrouded in black, surrounded by dark associations and a seemingly-ominous presence... though widely misunderstood, social, loyal, curious and creative. Here's the story:
"It began in
darkness. My world cracked, and fell apart… revealing a bigger world. That was
how I was born. The dazing blur that I suddenly found to be my home was not an inviting
one. Screeches pierced the cold air, shadows soaring above, and clashing. One
of the shapes, fending off the other, took a dive before landing hard before
me. My eyes began to focus, the imposing silhouette took form. I recall looking
upon my father’s face for the first time, and seeing myself reflected in those
glinting black eyes, set like jewels into his scarred face. Seconds later, he
took flight again to intercept another bird of equally powerful appearance,
bearing down on the nest at speed. The two collided, and with a cutting shriek,
the attacker fell from course, tumbling through branches. My father followed
the defeated bird down and out of sight, before all fell silent. I looked
around the nest, to see only shattered pale shell, and crimson. This was my
welcome to the world.
Life in the woods
was difficult from the beginning, especially as a young raven. Trying to eat
(while avoiding being eaten) was a constant struggle. A lesson I learned very
quickly, was that wherever there is life there is death, and that wherever
there is death, there is life. My father taught me to follow the wolves that
prowled the forest, in order to find food- or if I were to find a fresh deer
carcass, to guide the wolves to it, so that they could make a start on tearing
it open. It was a mutually-beneficial relationship. You had to co-exist to
exist. As well as our taste in meat, we shared something else in common with
the ghost-like wolves; the humans hated us both. My mother was killed by
humans, looking for food in the nearby village. My first encounter with them involved
being chased from a tower with fire… I never understood why they hated us, but
the feeling was reciprocated.
Something I’ll
always remember happened around my early adulthood: I recall being awoken one autumn
morning to the sound of a distant booming, echoing through the trees. I took
flight towards the sounds, in order to investigate; it was unlike anything I
had ever heard in all my life. Gliding over the thick carpet of trees, the
sound grew in intensity, the pounding sound resonating in me. The forest beneath
me gave way to a steep drop, yielding a view I could never have imagined. The
plain that swept through the valley contained thousands of humans in two momentous
masses, one coming to a halt some distance from the other. The scene resembled
a sea of silver, parted down the middle, though this was soon to change- the
deafening beat ceased, leaving a few seconds of silence before a chorus of
horns filled the air. The two walls of steel began to close in, covering the
middle ground in seconds and filling the void with an immense clash. Other
ravens had told tales of the conflicts of man, but those of us who had not yet
witnessed such a spectacle believed them to be mere legends. I landed atop of a
dead tree on an outcrop, where others had gathered to view the chaos unfolding
below. Fighting for your life was always a part of nature, but never on a scale
so vast, for reasons so senseless… something I couldn’t comprehend back then. None
of us could. For hours, the sounds of battle echoed through the valley, until
eventually the fighting had ran its course. Those that still stood had reformed,
leaving behind the aftermath. From above, the scene resembled a macabre work of
art; a relief of bodies that lay as they fell, many entangled as if frozen in
their mortal struggle. I flew down to inspect all that remained, landing on a
torn crimson banner. I did not know who had won, or for what cause- The
pursuits and troubles of men never concerned us. All that appeared to us now
were two fallen armies, united as one by death. The humans’ armoured shells
glinted in the sun, blood staining the golden leaf-clad earth. I settled on a
body that lay with a large wound… nothing sacred, just meat.
Much has happened
since then, and in my old age I have come to realise that there is more to this
life than mere survival. A few years ago, I found myself severely injured after
fighting to defend my new-found territory in the field belonging to some
humans. I was attacked by several younger ravens, who came from nowhere, and
disappeared as fast as they had struck when a loud crash rang out. I tried to
take flight to escape whatever had startled the others, but my right wing was
broken. Before long, a man wielding a threatening tool (much like those I
remember from the great battle) approached me from the nearby stone building;
there was nothing I could do except prepare for my inevitable death, as the
figure loomed over, eclipsing the glaring sun. I found myself in the inescapable
grip of the human, as he looked at me… I awaited my fate with total resignation
to the end, though death never came. He carried me to his home, where he set me
down, outstretching my torn wing. It soon became clear that this man was
actually trying to help me, to my total disbelief. The humans hated us! Why was
this man helping ME? All I had ever known of the humans was hostility and violence-
to us and each other. My wound was cleaned up, and pieces of meat were left for
me by the window of his small dwelling. Days passed, and the man’s home became
mine, with all the food I could need- and a companion. Though we could not
communicate in each other’s way of doing so, there was a mutual unspoken
understanding we shared. I would accompany him around the field, as he went
about his own food foraging, and watch as he gathered wood for the fire- Something
only humans had mastered. Eventually, I was able to help collect branches too.
There was no doubt in my mind by then that the humans were not an evil race as
I had once believed, and that the hostility between us was completely senseless.
I had hope that perhaps one day, ravens and people could co-exist without fear
and animosity, just as we did. My resentment for the whole of mankind for the
death of my mother had long since dissipated, after my later experiences.
My wing had healed
within the year, but I never left my human friend; Loyalty is as important as
compassion. Since that life-changing experience, I felt a sense of peace had
been restored to my previously-chaotic, hostile world."
