CHAPTER SIX: {THE LOVE STORY}

Crow walked a long time into the darkness. Under the mountain the air was thick and heavy, and Crow began to feel lost and sleepy. She had questions to ask, but they became as muffled and dark as her surroundings. Eventually she found a dry corner, free of rustling bats or dripping stalactites, and settled down to rest for a few minutes. 

She wasn’t sure how long her eyes were closed before she heard a voice, warm and heavy as the air itself: “Welcome, friend Crow.” Surprised, Crow tried to open her eyes, but the darkness was so complete she wasn’t sure if they were closed or open. She waited. “You’ve come to ask me something.” the voice continued. 

But Crow couldn’t speak. It was a new sensation for her. Memories raced through her  mind—her dream about the mountain, the conversation with the swifts, the council of crows, the calls for war against the owls…and as if the voice was following these images with her, it continued, “Yes, you are in trouble, little flying friend. You are darting from fear to fear and fear can harden into hate. But you’re not hardened… that’s good, that’s interesting. Fear is in the bedrock around you….yes… but, Crow, what is it you fear?” 

In a tiny, tiny, voice, barely louder than a whisper, Crow breathed out one syllable: “Owl.” In Crow’s mind, images of the Owl as a lurking menace, a shadowy figure at dusk, a blank face with no language. 

“I see.” The mountain said slowly, “You fear one so similar to yourself—another of your flying family. But there’s something else, too, what is it?” 

Crow was startled. She bristled at the thought of being similar to the Owl. But she admitted that to a mountain all birds must seem similar.  And finally she remembered—the rock in her nest! The mystery that started this whole mess. Here, under the weight of an entire mountain, that small rock didn’t seem as ominous. 

“Oh!” Now the mountain was surprised. “You’ve found one of my children! He’s been wandering for a long time, which isn’t usually the way of our people. But that’s what frightened you. Rocks that move…rocks in nests, high up in the trees…I think I’d like to tell you a story of a rock that wasn’t a rock. Another rock that moved. Maybe it will help you be less afraid.” 

And the mountain told Crow of a time long, long ago when the ocean was broad and high and the entire mountain was underwater. 

The world was full of wondrous creatures then, floating and swimming and scuttling across my toes. For thousands of years I watched over them as they grew eyes and fins and flashed bright colors or hid themselves in the sand. Even the most beautiful and daring ones, most of them were scared like you. 

One day I heard a beautiful sea anemone scream in surprise and wave her iridescent tentacles in the water. The rock she had attached to for the night was beginning to move. It rose up from the sand and began to scuttle forward on craggy legs with sharp pincers. She thought she was being carried off to become a meal and kept up a storm of screaming and cursing. But this strange rock turned out to be a hermit crab, and a shy and nervous one at that. 

“Please stop screaming!” he begged. “You’ll attract attention!” And the hermit crab scuttled between my toes to hide, not too far from where you are now. 

“Don’t eat me, I’m venomous!” warned the anemone. “I’ve got friends with powerful poisons, too. They’ll find you and sting your eyes out!” 

“I don’t want to eat you, I just don’t want the snailfish to find me and eat me!” wailed the hermit crab who had pulled his head and legs back into his shell and settled into the sand again. 

But the anemone was suddenly distracted—where they had scuttled to, she’d found an abundance of tasty plankton and now her mouth was full. After a moment, she urged the hermit crab, “Hey, a little to the left…there’s a really delicious looking patch over there…”

The hermit crab obediently emerged and scuttled to the left. The anemone ate contentedly for a little while. And then quick as anything a snailfish darted towards them and the hermit crab shrieked—as I was telling you, everyone was very scared all the time back then—but right before the hermit crab became a meal, the anemone stung the snailfish and it finned away howling in pain. 

That was when the hermit crab fell in love. Until then, he’d only been looking out for himself and only had himself to look out for. And for the anemone, she grew to love a life of movement and adventure. They both grew much braver together, and the hermit crab lived long enough to outgrow several shells. Each time he found a new shell, he helped the anemone move from the old one and set up a comfortable perch on the new one. 

The mountain sighed gently. “Crow, how many wonderful things are lost or undiscovered because the source of the gift is rejected as strange?”

Crow ruffled her feathers uncomfortably. She was distinctly grateful to not live in the ocean but had been moved by the love story. She liked the idea of animals helping each other face the scary world together, instead of being scared of each other. But how could she tell who was a friend and who was an enemy? 

Although she hadn’t spoken aloud, the mountain answered, “Look at things from a different angle, Crow. Try on a bigger perspective.”