Raven’s Welcome to the Calabar

The trip from the Land of Fairy Tales was long and exhausting. My arms were cramped from holding on to Joey’s neck. Unicorns may fly fabulously, but I was responsible for keeping myself seated and I was growing weary. Intuitively, Raven understood my plight and offered to carry me for part of our journey. Ravens ride much differently than Unicorns. I perched on her back and she wrapped me securely in her wings. There I rested comfortably for the rest of the trip.

Dusk had fallen and the northerly winds picked up. making the last bit of the trip rough going. I smelled the saltwater breeze and grew watchful. Soon we sighted the roiling sea. It took Raven and Joey only minutes to spy the Calabar, docked in an isolated and abandoned wharf. The ship had fallen into disrepair since I had last stood on her deck. When we drew closer, I heard Captain Wilder shouting orders to dumb stricken mates. Evidently she was intent on making the Calabar seaworthy again, but after my long trip I had no energy to hoist sails or swab decks. Joey and Raven consulted with each other. Then Joey flew to the nearest land to keep watch, (he was much too large to hide on the ship), while Raven sneaked me into a cabin through a back way, far out of sight of the curse-wielding, sword-swooping Captain.

The cabin was simple, but more than adequate for my immediate needs. There was a hammock hung from wall to wall, a quilt folded underneath and a basin stand nailed securely to the wall. A small oil lamp, hardly lit, swung from it’s chain. The room was quite dark, only a few cracks of light were seen through the uneven floor boards. I had expected creaking and loud slaps of waves against the ship, but my room was quiet, except for an occasional shout above deck.

Raven bid me lie down and she pecked at the quilt until it was unfolded and covering me snugly. It was then I noticed the beauty of the quilt — pieced in blues and greens, a ship of soothing color crowning every block and sewn carefully with fine linen thread. I wondered mightily who could have made this remarkable coverlet and why it was on the Calabar, but it seemed not the right time for questions.

“It will be a cool night, but you will remain warm enough,” said Raven. “I will keep the lamp dim and fill the basin so you can refresh yourself in the morning. Now let me gather a few things and I will return. Then you shall sleep comfortably.”

It seemed Raven had only taken leave minutes earlier when she re-entered the cabin, a bundle held in her beak. It was a very small bundle, but from it, Raven removed a flask of sweet grog, a loaf of bread and some aged cheese. She pecked inside the bag a bit longer, then proffered me a tiny, silver music box. She surprised me even more by bringing forth my little pouch, the pouch Enchanteur had given me long ago. I hadn’t even realized I’d lost it.

“Eat before you sleep,” Raven said kindly. “Then place a dream seed under your head, and you will find yourself resting in a spring meadow filled with myriad scent and color. Finally, here is a Raven’s music box, indeed a very rare music box. This is my gift to you. Place it in Enchanteur’s bag and comforting music will fill your heart. Perhaps you will hear a healing song tonight.”

Once I had done what I was told, Raven flew to the door in preparation to leave me. I grew fearful at being left alone.

Raven understood. “I will remain outside your cabin and protect you from any harm. In the morning, you will feel much revived and be able to carry out your duties. And remember, Bo, I will be with you throughout this long voyage. You are not alone.”

It was then that I fell into a restful slumber, Raven’s last words whispering gently in my mind and caressing me with light.