The Raven and the Teapot

Once upon a time, there was a raven flying over a field.

Thinking to herself, "there might be some tasty foodstuffs there!"

Setting down, the raven began to forage.

Poking and prodding among the grass, the raven found a morsel here or there.

But then, a shiny glint caught her eye.

"What could that wonderful thing be?"

Fluttering over, the raven found an old and rusted tea pot sitting there.

It was worn and aged, but still there was a small spot that shone in the sun.

Why was this old pot here? What was this fascinating spot? Where there more shineys to be found?

The raven was most curious, she circled the pot, pondering and wondering.

Searching it over thrice, the raven kept coming back to the spot.

Unable to resist any longer, the raven poked the spot with her beak.

"Ting! Ting ting!"

"Stop that!" The pot said.

The raven fluttered back in surprise, "It talks!"

The surprise gone, the raven cheerfully said "Hello!"

The pot did not reply.

"Hello?" Asked the raven again.

Still the tea pot did not reply.

Approaching it again, the raven wondered if she had gone daft in the head.

She poked the shiny spot once more.

"Ting! Ting ting!"

"I said, stop that!" The pot said.

"You CAN talk!" the raven said.

The pot did not reply.

The raven was MOST curious now.

"Should I poke you again?" The Raven asked.

"Don't do that." The pot said.

The raven cocked her head and stared at the curious talking tea pot.

"Why do you reply sometimes and not others?" The raven asked.

"Go away." The tea pot said.

"An angry tea pot!" The raven fluttered in amusement.

Around the tea pot the raven circled again, this wonderful thing was far better than just a shiny spot.

"Why should I not poke you?" The raven asked.

"Because." The pot said.

"Are you ticklish?" The raven asked.

"No." The pot said.

"Are you sure?" The raven asked, poking the spot once more.

"Ting! Ting ting!"

"Stop that!" The pot said.

"But if you are not ticklish, why does it matter?" The raven asked, poking again.

"Ting! Ting ting!"

"I said stop it!" The pot said, getting angrier still.

"And if I don't?" The raven asked, poking again "You're just an angry tea pot."

"Ting! Ting Ting!"

"Just go away!" The tea pot said.

"Nope." The raven replied.

"Ting! Ting Ting!"

"STOP!" The pot said.

"Nope." The raven replied.

"Ting! Ting Ting!"

It was then the lid popped off the pot and flew into the air, startling the raven something fierce.

The raven was surprised to see, the fluttering black just before the pot closed again.

"You're no tea pot!" The raven squawked in surprise. "You're just a raven like me!"

The tea pot did not reply.

"To think! A Raven in a tea pot!" The raven fluttered in delight.

The tea pot did not reply.

"Why are you hiding in there?" The raven asked.

The tea pot did not reply.

The raven approached the pot again, poking it once more.

"Ting! Ting ting!"

"Stop it!" the pot shouted.

"Then tell me why you are hiding in there!" The raven said.

"I like it in here! Now go away!" The tea pot shouted.

"Why?" The raven asked. "Doesn't it get cramped in there?"

"Sometimes." The pot replied.

"Then come out and fly with me!" The raven said.

"No." The pot replied.

"Come on! There's a wonderful field of berries just over the hill!"

"No." The pot replied.

The raven stared at the pot for a moment.

"...okay then." The raven said in disappointment, before she flew away.

—-

After she had gone, the pot lifted slightly as the raven within peeked about. The field, the plants, the tall grass and the lone tree. All was as it should be.

Satisfied he was finally alone again, he retreated back into his pot. His pot was comfy. His pot was safe. His pot was home.

Settled and nested now he waited till the metal around him cooled.

At last the sun had set and the night had come.

Peeking out now slowly, he determined his field was safe and left to forage.

Picking and pecking, he checked the field finding a little here and a little there, but always did he scan his surroundings.

And then something caught his eye. What was that? Was that danger? That had to be danger!

Fluttering and bouncing back to his pot he retreated back within.

When nothing came, he peeked out once more.

There he saw the slowly swaying plant in the evening wind. Just the plant.

Satisfied he was safe and alone he return to his foraging, but never too far did he stray from his pot and always was he wary.

Night after night was this ritual the same. Night after night he foraged, fled and hid. Always was it a plant or leaf or some other small thing.

And by the first evidence of rising sun, would he return to his pot.

All day he would spend in that pot. It kept the sun off his feathers and he didn’t worry about terrifying things sneaking up on him. He could sit all day, safe and sound and ponder there in his pot.

Today he pondered on the nature of the grass outside. Why did it point up skyward so? Did the grass wish to fly? Why would it wish to fly? There was nothing special about flying. And it was horribly dangerous out in the sky. Perhaps it was the sun? Did it reach skyward hoping to touch the warm ball? Was the grass cold upon the ground? Certainly it could get to be so. The warm breeze always touched the trees better than the grass. But still, it was nothing so special. One could easily fall from a tree. Why was the grass not simply a tree then if it liked the breeze so? Why was it colored green for that matter? Was it because all the other plants were green and it wished to be too? Was it because it wanted to be different from the sky to draw the breeze and sun to something new and shiny? New and shiny were good, but sometimes they hurt.

“Ting! Ting Ting!” The pot reverberated around him.

“Not again!” The Raven exclaimed, his feathers still ruffled from the ringing.

He heard the wings flutter outside and the shout of surprise “It talks!”

He knew that caw. She was back.

“Hello!” The Raven outside cheerfully.

Maybe if he stayed quiet this time, she would go.

“Hello?” The Raven outside asked just the same.

He waited. Certainly, she would lose interest if he didn’t—

“Ting! Ting Ting!”

“I told you already to not DO that!” He cried out, the world shaking around him.

“You CAN talk!” The Raven outside exclaimed.

The Raven paused. This was going about as well as it did yesterday.

“Should I poke you again?” The Raven outside asked.

“Please don’t.” The raven inside pleaded, waiting for the next ringing quake.

“Why do you reply sometimes and not others?” The raven outside asked.

“Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?” The raven inside squawked.

“An angry tea pot!” The raven outside said with glee.

Why was she doing this? Again? Couldn’t she spend her time not messing with him?

“Why should I not poke you?” The raven outside asked.

He debated for a moment but knew this had to end. So, gathering his courage, he poked his head up out of the pot and said “Please, just stop and go. My head is hurting from all the ringing.”

The Raven nearly jumped out of her feathers when she spotted him.

"You're no tea pot!" The raven squawked in surprise. "You're just a raven like me!"

The Raven cocked his head at her, confused at her surprise. This was not new, she had bothered him yesterday.

"To think! A Raven in a tea pot!" The raven fluttered in delight.

“Of course I am!” He crowed, baffled why she was playing this game with him.

"Then come out and fly with me!" The raven cried, bouncing up and down excitedly.

He watched for a moment. Her enthusiasm was addicting. But… He couldn’t. Too dangerous. He retreated back into his pot.

“No, I can’t.” He told her at last.

"Come on! There's a wonderful field of berries just over the hill!" She told him.

Again with the field. What was so special about this field? Just berries. He didn’t even remember what was so special about them in the first place.

“Go forage on your own.” He said. “Just leave me alone.

There was a silence for a long moment.

"...okay then." The raven outside said in disappointment, before he heard her fly away.

He peeked from his pot and watched her fly away. Maybe this time she would leave him alone.

He sat in his pot, pondering things, waiting for night to fall. Why wouldn’t she leave him alone? Why did she try to tempt him out into the dangerous world? Was he tempted? No, certainly not, dangerous world, never forget. And she was just another raven like him. What was so special? He thought about her bouncing up and down in excitement. He was fascinated. She seemed so excited at the prospect. He imagined she might just be right, it would be fun to fly with her. He thought about bobbing and weaving and diving and soaring. And chasing after her… but no, it was dangerous. This was where he needed to stay. And she would certainly never bother him again.

As night fell, he left his pot and foraged as he had done night after night.

He pecked at the grass finding a morsal here and a morsal there. He didn’t need berries.

He pecked at the ground aimlessly. Pondering over what was so special about flying and berries and fun and silly things like that.

He felt the night’s breeze run across his feathers. And for a moment he remember what it was like up there. And wondered why it would be like to join a bouncing raven up in the air.

He then looked around as the world returned to him. He had wandered farther from his pot than intended. He had passed the swaying plant even.

Suddenly worried, this far out in the open, he looked around nervously, before darting back to the pot.

He was full. That was enough. Fear was enough to sate him for the night. Stupid bouncing raven and her berries. He was glad he wouldn’t need to see her again. It was dangerous out there. And she was going to never come back.

As he nestled in to try and sleep, that thought began to worry him more than he thought. What if she didn’t come back? The world is dangerous. Too dangerous.

—-

“Ting! Ting Ting!”

The Raven was startled awake by the ringing all around him.

“WUZZAT!?” He squawked is surprise.

“It Talks!” He heard from outside, with the fluttering of wings.

As he fully woke to the world, he heard her say ask “Hello!”

He new that sound, she HAD come back, she wasn’t gone and dead!

“You’re back!” The raven exclaimed in joy as he popped his head from the pot.

The raven outside fluttered back in surprise, almost like she wasn’t expecting him.

"You're no tea pot! You're just a raven like me!" she squawked.

He cocked his head at her. Why was she surprised by this again?

"To think! A Raven in a tea pot!" She fluttered in delight.

But he didn’t care how confused he was, he was just so glad to see her.

“I’m glad you came back!” He said.

“Back?” She asked him, apparently confused.

“When you left yesterday, I worried what danger would get you.” He caught himself and ruffled his feathers in an attempt to seem more pickly. “For some reason. Not that it matters.”

“You’re a funny angry tea pot.” She told him happily.

He simply said nothing, hoping to look as prickly as possible. He knew a danger when he saw one.

She circled him curiously, as if trying to figure him out. He watched her from the corners of his eyes as she made the full trip around. Trying to puzzle him out.

"Why are you hiding in there?" She asked.

“I’m not hiding.” He told her. “It’s just safer.”

“From what?” She asked, looking around.

“Dangerous things.” He told her.

“I don’t see any danger.” She said, bobbing up and down at him. “So why don’t you come out here and fly with me?”

He watched her spread her wings and flutter, trying to entice him from the pot. And he did admit, in spite of his better judgement, he was enticed.

“I don’t know…” He said at last.

"Come on! There's a wonderful field of berries just over the hill!" She told him.

He looked at her, there was that word again. Berries.

“I don’t like berries.” He told her.

“But these are the best! Nothing like ‘em! You have to try them!” She insisted.

He realized he had ceased prickling and tried to puff up again.

She stared at him for a long moment in silence. This was the point where she flies away he told himself.

“Okay.” She said at last. “At least come out for a bit. It can’t be good for your wings in there!”

She fluttered again. He did admit, he was feeling stiff.

He looked around the field.

“There’s no danger, just me!” she told him. “I’ll keep extra eyes out for you!”

That did make a certain kind of sense to him.

“Just pop out of there!” She told him, fluttering her wings. “Feel the air out here!”

At last, he thought to himself, what could it hurt?

With one more look around, he exited the pot. The sun was bright and hurt his eyes. But as they adjusted he saw the blue sky, and the female raven there.

She fluttered at him. “Come on! Your wings need fun!”

He watched her fluttering for a moment, bouncing up and down. And she did seem to be enjoying herself. He couldn’t help watching her. And finally, he couldn’t resist. He fluttered his wings too.

“That’s it!” she cried in glee.

She fluttered in response. He fluttered back at her. Back and forth they went till both were bouncing and fluttering like they’d gone mad. And he loved every moment of it.

Cackling in glee, she darted forward, knocking him over with a peck, to his surprise.

“Chase me!” She crowed, before going fluttering off across the field.

With only a moment’s thought of the danger out in the open, her darted after her.

The pair of raven’s bounced and fluttered and squawked their heads off as one chased the other around the field. Every time he thought he was close, she darted off again. He thought her mad. He felt mad. But he felt happy.

And then she took off, flying up into the sky. He stopped and watched her soaring above.

“Chase me!” she crowed down at him.

He watched her, and wanted to but… he couldn’t. He spread his wings and tried to follow. But he just couldn’t bring himself too. He watched her as she flew over the hill and out of sight.

And she was gone.

He wanted so badly to fly after her… but he just couldn’t. Who knew what was over that hill? What if he couldn’t even fly anymore? What if he tried and just fell from the sky? He couldn’t.

He looked around the empty field. Still no dancer in sight. Just the taller grass swaying gently in the breeze. He wondered if she would come back. And he waited. And waited.

At last he could take the fear no longer and scrambled back into his pot. It was safe in here. Chasing berries and passing that hill.. You might never come back.

He hoped she would come back.

The sun set and the stars came out. She didn’t come back.

He sat in his teapot, wondering what had happened to her. Wishing he had chased her. He didn’t feel like foraging. All he could do was worry about her.

Sleep came in small doses. Every noise outside his checked, just to see if it was her. It never was.

The sun slowly rose into the sky and every moment between naps, the raven wondered what had happened to her.

—-

Then, it came. That ever familiar noise.

“Ting! Ting Ting!”

“It’s you!” He crowed in glee.

“It talks!” he heard her say and she fluttered back in surprise.

He immediately popped out of the tea pot to greet her.

She fluttered back, startled.

“You’re no tea pot! You’re a Raven like me!” She squawked in surprise.

He bounded towards her fluttering in joy.

She jumped back in shock.

“What are you doing?!” she cried.

He cocked his head, confused.

“I’m… chasing you?” He said, unsure.

“Why would you do that?” She asked, clearly wary of him now.

“I… wanted to make up for the day before today.” He told her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She told him.

He wondered if she was mad at him for not following her. He really wouldn’t blame her.

“I was on my way to the berry field over the hill and saw something shiny.” She told him. “If I had know there was a crazy bird in there, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

And with that she took off, leaving him there as she flew over the hill. He stood there and watched her disappear again. He was now baffled. Was she angry at him? Or had she really forgotten him already…?

The raven had never felt worse. He regretted whatever he had done to be forgotten so. He missed her already.

He returned to his pot.

As he sat inside and pondered, he grew angry. He was perfectly content to stay in his pot. It’s dangerous out there. You fly over that hill and you never come back. And he didn’t care that they never came back. He didn’t want to be bothered anyway. He didn’t want to fly. He just wanted to sit inside the pot and ponder.

And that is precisely what he intended to do.

—-

What a wonderous and shiny thing, she thought as she tried to figure out the spot upon the pot. Unable to resist any longer, the raven poked the spot with her beak.

“Ting! Ting Ting!”

“Go away.” The tea pot said.

The raven fluttered back in surprise, "It talks!"

The surprise gone, the raven cheerfully said "Hello!"

The pot did not reply.

"Hello?" Asked the raven again.

Still the tea pot did not reply.

Approaching it again, the raven wondered if she had gone daft in the head.

She poked the shiny spot once more.

"Ting! Ting ting!"

"Why don’t you just leave me alone!" The pot said.

"You CAN talk!" the raven said.

The pot did not reply.

The raven was MOST curious now.

"Should I poke you again?" The Raven asked.

"Go away." The pot said.

The raven cocked her head and stared at the curious talking tea pot.

"Why do you reply sometimes and not others?" The raven asked.

"Because I have better things to do!" The tea pot said.

"An angry tea pot!" The raven fluttered in amusement.

Around the tea pot the raven circled again, this wonderful thing was far better than just a shiny spot.

"Why should I not poke you?" The raven asked.

"You will anyway." The pot said, sadly.

This gave the raven pause, why would the pot be sad, more so, how did the pot know? Pots can’t predict what raven’s will do.

"Are you ticklish?" The raven asked.

"No, I’m still not ticklish." The pot said.

"Are you sure?" The raven asked, poking the spot once more.

"Ting! Ting ting!"

"Please, just stop and go." The pot said, sadly.

"But if you are not ticklish, why does it matter?" The raven asked, poking again.

"Ting! Ting ting!"

"Why must you keep bothering me?!" The pot said, getting angry still.

“Raven’s prerogative, angry tea pot.” She said, poking it again.

“Ting! Ting Ting!”

“You’re going to go, so just go already!” The tea pot squawked.

Hmm, more curious things from the talking tea pot.

“I do have a place to be…” She said to the tea pot. “…But maybe you’re more fun.”

“Ting! Ting Ting!”

“Just stop playing with me!” The tea pot said with a rustling.

"And if I don't?" The raven asked, poking again "You're just an angry tea pot."

"Ting! Ting Ting!"

"I am not a tea pot!” The Tea Pot crowed.

“Oh? What are you then?” The raven asked “because you look like a tea pot to me.”

It was then the lid popped off the pot and flew into the air, startling the raven something fierce.

The raven was surprised to see, the fluttering black leap from the pot and land there in front of her. Lid still sitting askant on his head, it was clearly no tea pot, indeed!

"You really are no tea pot!" The raven squawked in surprise. "You're just a raven like me!"

The tea pot raven prickled and looked away from her.

"To think! A Raven in a tea pot!" The raven fluttered in delight.

“To think, indeed.” The raven said sourly.

The raven cocked her head at this curious sight. Why was this raven tea pot so grouchy?

“What’s the matter with you raven tea pot?” She asked.

“You come, I’m happy. You go, I’m sad. You come back and don’t even know me.” The raven tea pot said sadly.

Most curious. She wondered what he was on about. She saw a spot, she poked a spot, a raven appeared. Was there something else she was forgetting?

“You’re a curious thing.” She said, amused.

The raven just prickled, but kept her in sight out of the corners of his eyes all the same.

She paced back and forth, amusing herself with how he watched her. This raven tea pot was as curious of her as she of him. But what had she done to make him so prickly?

“Why all this worry?” She asked him finally. “You’re a raven, I’m a raven, we should just fly!”

She fluttered her wings at him. He looked at her warily.

“I have a wonderful idea!” She said, remembering what she was doing. “Come with me! There’s a field just over the hill with the most delicious berries!”

The raven tea pot boggled at her.

“No no no!” He said in desperation. “Please, don’t go over the hill again!”

She cocked her head at him. Why was he so concerned about the hill? The berries WERE divine!

He began fluttering and bouncing in front of her.

“Don’t go over the hill! Please!” He said, bouncing and fluttering. “Look! See! It’s marvelous right here!”

She watched in amusement as he put on a spectacular display, bouncing and bobbing and fluttering and spinning. All with the lid balanced jauntily on his head. He was mad, but she had never met a raven or tea pot of his like before.

“I like you, raven tea pot.” She said, in amusement.

“You do?” He asked in almost astonishment.

“Yup.” She said.

She then darted forward and pecked him, knocking him over.

“Now, chase me!” She crowed, and took off fluttering across the field.

She glanced back to see him pursue. He was terrible and clumsy. She would wait till he got just close enough, before darting off again. He had spent too much time in that tea pot. But it was a ball anyway, as clumsy as he was, he chased her. Around and around the field they went. As long as she kept ahead of him, he would follow her.

Into the long grass she went. Staying perfectly still. She listened to him fluttering about, looking for her. She knew he would take forever to find her. She knew he could never sneak up on her.

And then silence. She cocked her head, listening for the rustling of the grass. She heard nothing. Had he given up?

The grass exploded before her as he pounced. They rolled for a moment before she scrambled away. Cackling she flew up into the branches of the tree.

“Missed me!” She screeched in joy as she looked down at him on the ground.

“I had you!” He screeched back.

“Then why are you down there, and I’m up here?” She asked.

“Come down here!” He called.

“You come up here!” She called back.

He looked around as if pondering the situation.

“Well?” She asked. “Do your wings work of not?”

He looked at them each in turn, unsure of the answer himself.

She watched as he fluttered a few times, bouncing off the ground. Up and down. Up and down. She watched in amusement at the bobbing raven.

With one big bounce, he took off, fluttering up to her and grabbing the branch where she sat. He panted and held on for dear life, but she was glad to see his wings did still work.

She looked around and saw the sun was setting and the day ending. The orange was already becoming purple. They had spent all day in the field.  The berries would have to wait for another day.

She looked over at the raven tea pot, having finally regained his balance on the branch. He looked around, positively nervously. To her great amusement, the pot lid had some how stayed on his head through the whole day.

She scooted closer to him, and pecked the lid from his head.

They both watched as it clattered down the tree and landed on the ground below.

“You’re much better as a raven than a tea pot.” She said as she nuzzled in close to him.

She drifted off to sleep then, quite fond of her shiny new find of the day.

—-

With the sun rising, she opened her eyes and stretched her wings.

Glancing over at the raven tea pot, he sat still sleeping soundly.

In need off foodstuffs, she thought back on the berries she missed the day before today. Those would be the perfect way to begin the day.

She waited a moment, but her companion showed no sign of waking.

Her belly empty, she figured then she could nom some berries and be back before he woke.

With that, she took off from the branch and flew over the hill.

It was not far from the tea pot’s field and she wondered why he wouldn’t cross the hill at all.

She circled once before landing in the row of bushes, gazing at the bright colored berries.

There were often other birds around, but her flock had diminished so. Still she saw a few there, munching on the berries happily as could be.

Digging in, she began to nom the berries. One after another, enjoying the sweet taste. She did love the berries so. And before too long she was quite the happy raven indeed.

She glanced over at the other birds, a raven in fact enjoying them much the same. And then she saw the familiar sight of the yellow eyed raven come strolling from the grass. She remembered now the big black raven with the funny eyes, always there in the row. And every day she was amused how he enjoyed a game of chase like she did. Of course it was always someone new. The big yellow eyed raven was a funny sort. She always meant to check him out. But every day he would tire of the games and not return from the tall grass. What a curious bird she always thought. But still, she had the berries all the same and this was a perfect spot.

She thought to herself that she would have to bring some berries back, so wonderful were they… but back to whom?

What a curious thing she thought.

Things were sometimes fuzzy, like the yellow eyed raven. There was this spot and the berries. And the roost beyond the line of trees. And… Was there something missing? It seemed like it was so. Perhaps it was something needing her memory jogged like the yellow… the yellow what?

Now that was most curious indeed.

But it mattered litting. With her belly full and her mind quite happy she flew off, back towards her roost, beyond the line of trees.

—-

Gone. Gone again.

He crossed the field time and time again, checked every branch of the tree, scoured the long grass, but still she was no where to be seen. All day and into the night he looked. But she was gone again.

As the day wore on, he knew there was one place left to check. The one place he did not want to go. The place where you don’t come back.

Slowly, he hopped his way up the hill. Every bit further urging him back.

Up and up and up he went. Terrified to his very core.

At last he made it and looked at what lay beyond.

Rows and rows and rows of bushes. As far as his eyes could see. Each of them covered in speckled bright colors of what must be the berries.

The sight was a tasty one indeed, and he almost understood.

But still the sight worried him because… where were all the birds?

He saw no one else enjoying the berries. Not a robin or a jay nor even a raven. But then where could she be?

Slowly he willed up his nerve and slowly snuck into the bush, too terrified to make much noise or call.

As he made his ways along the rows he found the colors so enticing, but without her there he couldn’t bother. She was what was important.

Still he saw her not a bit. And more and more worried he got. Deeper and deeper still he went, hoping she was merely hiding.

And that’s when he found something truly to worry about, deep within the bushes now there were more than berries all around him. Feathers, tons indeed, all around him. Tangled in the bushes and dotted all across the ground. The were all shapes and sizes, even big black ones he knew must be Ravens.

As if that sight were not enough, still there was more to the sight. For not only were there feathers there but bones of all shapes and sizes. Not merely tasty mammal bones, but birds of various sizes.

Had panic not already taken hold, his next sight would surly send him there. For in the darkness of the deepest bush, he saw two yellow eyes peering out at him.

The raven lost all composure and fled back the way he came. Scrambling through the brush, uselessly trying to take flight. He fought and thrashed as he made his way back, hearing something follow. The raven knew the end was near, and worse, behind him!

He exploded from the bushes, back to open ground, where he instantly took flight and sped right back home.

Crashing down in the field, the raven desperately tried to scramble back to safety in his tea pot. Inside, he was horrified to remember, he had lost his lid, as the setting sun was above him.

With no shelter left here, he scrambled out and up into his tree.

And there he sat, all the night through.

Never did that thing from the bushes cross the hill. But still he waited all the same.

Barely could he slow his heart, but still one thought contained him.

Was she alright, or had that thing gotten her too…?

—-

“Ting! Ting Ting!”

He awoke with a start. He realized quite quickly he was still in the tree. But then… what was that noise?

“Ting Ting! Ting Ting Ting!”

He saw her standing there, as she poked at the shiny spot on the tea pot.

He immediately took flight and fluttered down next to her and called “You’re alive!”

Startled she, jumped back and replied “Oh! Hello!”

She returned her attention to the shiny spot and pecked it yet again.

“I found this wonderful spot!” She said “And found it makes this fascinating noise!”

“Ting Ting Ting!”

And then it dawned on her and she looked and asked “Who might you be?”

“You don’t remember me at all?” He asked.

“I’m sorry, should I?” She cocked her head in reply.

“I’m the raven from the tea pot!” he cried as he fluttered his wings.

“Don’t be silly!” She replied. “Why would a raven be in a teapot?”

And then she looked at him, more mistrust in her eyes.

“You just want my shiny…” She hissed accusingly.

“No no no.” He said, backing away. “I just want you to remember.”

“Remember what?” she asked.

“Me.” He told her sadly.

She looked at him then with some sense of pity.  Not at all what he wanted.

“Well, I’m sorry but I don’t.” She said. “I think I would remember a raven in a tea pot.”

“You don’t remember the chasing or hiding in the tall grass?” He pleaded.

“I should think I would, but really I cannot say I do.” She replied.

“Every day you come here.” He explained. “Every day you wrap upon my pot, forcing me to come see you.”

“I do apologize.” She said “But if I bothered you, I’m truly sorry.”

“But you didn’t!” He tried again. “I was happy when you came around! My wings have never felt as good, now that the crap has left them!”

He fluttered his wings and bounced up and down, seemingly amusing her greatly.

“You are a curious one.” She said as she cocked her head. “But that only makes me think, I would remember all the more.”

“Every day you go from here and cross the hill.” He explained. “And then… you are no more.”

“But the only thing there are the wonderful berries, and clearly I am still here!” She said, pointing out his madness.

He pondered then, that she did have a point, if she crossed the hill and came back still… why did she lose him?

“It… it must be the berries then!” he said, the very idea new to him.

“The berries indeed!” She crowed. “Such tasty things, yet still I remember them!”

That was true he knew, there was no reason to forget one and not the other.

“I think you want them all to yourself!” She screeched at him.

“No, not at all!” He plead again. “Please! You still can’t go!”

“Don’t tell me what I can do!” She crowed again. “Go back in your tea pot and leave me alone!”

She took flight that instant and soared away. He froze again, knowing he had to do something, because even if he was wrong about her, that thing there was very real.

Gathering up his courage, he took to the sky.

Crossing the hill, he circled there far above the bushes.

Below him there he saw her, the lone bird in the field. She stood out in the row, happily munching berries.

Maybe… maybe he had been wrong… maybe he had gone crazy. After all, how long had he hid a field away, contained in his tea pot.

Unfortunately he found quickly how wrong he was not. Because as he circled, he glimpsed them there, those yellow eyes as they emerged from the bushes.

Slowly did he stroll out into the row and move towards her. With know other birds around, she was what he set his sights on. Terrible and huge did he seem, even from this height. Worse than the yellow eyes was the rest of the form, for the terrible thing form the bushes was nothing more than a big black cat.

“Fly!” He screeched down at her.

To his utter horror, she did not flee at the sight of the cat coming towards her. Instead she cocked her head and said “Hello! You’re a curious sort of raven!”

The cat prepared himself as she looked him over. Readying for the kill.

“You have such curious eyes for a raven!” She said to the cat. “But I like that!”

Before he could do another thing to help her, the cat pounced.

Barely she had fluttered from its grasp, and took off down the row.

“Chase me!” She cackled as she fluttered and fled.

The cat pursued, the prey too tempting to ignore.

The cat stayed right on her, but worse, gained. The raven knew something was wrong as she moved more sluggishly. She was not on her game as she had been before. The cat was sure to catch her.

What could he do?! He though in desperation. He couldn’t take that cat, it was far to big of proportions.

If only he hadn’t spent so much time in that pot, perhaps he could take him!

And that was it, the idea stuck. He hoped he could do the one thing possible.

He fled back to his field.

—-

She darted too and fro, fluttering and cackling.

Right behind her she saw the big raven kept its pace, and gained to her amusement.

She felt kinda fuzzy though… Her head felt off. And further still why did the yellow eyed raven not flutter?

Maybe she should fly away. But her wings would not quite carry her.

—-

The raven beat his wings as hard as he could. Left and right, struggling with all he could.

Finally, bit by bit it came free of the dirt and the soil.

The raven lifted off as best he could, taking the tea pot with him.

Heavy was the metal pot, rusted from age and weather still, but lift he had to manage.

Crossing the hill, the raven saw them, his companion and the black cat. Darting down the row, she looked ever more sluggish.

She screeched in terrible pain as the cat got just too close, but to the raven’s relief the cat kept but one or two tail feathers.

Beating his wings as hard as he could, the raven and tea pot pursued them.

He had to catch them, he couldn’t fail. He couldn’t bear to lose her too.

He watched as the raven took one last flutter, barely able to move. As the cat closed in on her, she again looked at him in curiosity.

“You’re… a very strange kind of raven…” She told the big black cat. “But I guess you still caught me!”

The cat readied it self to go for the kill, it’s prey no longer a challenging hunt.

The raven in his sights slowly started to see, that perhaps it was no raven there, but something worse indeed.

Before the cat could loose its claws, it found something it had not expected.

“TING!”

The sound of the metal pot rang out across the field as it landed on the cat’s head.

The cat screeches in fury and pain and darted off through the bushes, leaving his former prey unshredded.

The raven from the tea pot landed in the field. Checking over his friend and companion.

“Are you okay?” He asked her.

At first she did not reply, only stared curiously at the now split tea pot.

Finally she turned and looked at the other raven, still circling and checking her condition.

“I… I know you.” She said, still a little fuzzy.

“Yes!” He said with a flutter. “From the field over the hill!”

“And… I got you to chase me.” She continued.

“Yes! Yes!” He said happier still.

“I… think I got a little lost.” She continued still. “…And you left your field to find me?”

“I did!” He crowed.

“…And saved me from that cat.” She concluded.

“I did.” He said in return. “But we should really go. He could be back any minute. Can you fly?”

“I… think so.” She replied, fluttering her wings.

“Then go, and I’ll be right behind you.” He said, wings spread.

She bounced a few times, and fluttered, but finally did take off. He flying was slightly wobbly due to a missing feather or too, but she made her way back across the hill and to the lone tree. He followed right behind, he wasn’t going to lose her again.

She sat there in the tree, seeming to ponder all that had happened. The haze from the berries wearing thin and all her mind returning.

“You came for me, even when I screeched at you.” She said.

He cocked his head, almost confused and replied. “I couldn’t let you be eaten.”

“I’m sorry about your tea pot.” She told him.

“Don’t be.” He replied. “Thanks to you I got my wings back, and that’s far better than hiding!”

She took a moment to preen and count her lost feathers, some what at a loss. But at last she said “Then we shall have to go flying!”

Two happy ravens they were and nothing more. Never more did one need a pot, nor never was the other lost. And ever after did the ravens fly, their life quite resplendent.

THE END