Ravena stepped out of the chilled water and enveloped herself in a slightly damp towel. She drained the bathtub and changed into her new nightwear. If you could even call it new. Her Highness had offered her a low-paying job as lobster-keeper to the the palace. She’d been given her own room (small, but it overlooked the water gardens she tended) and a new wardrobe. Her new clothes were even shabbier than her own had been. 

Thalor flew forward as the butt of the guard’s staff hit him squarely between the shoulder blades. Two guards had been assigned to follow him and make sure his final mission was accomplished. They’d beaten him ragged, and now they stood on the torchlit drawbridge, waiting for him to pick himself up and lead them to his men. As he lay there, bloodied face pressed against the roughly hewn drawbridge, death almost sounded appealing.

Clods of dirt and grass and rock sprang free from the ground under Maple’s hooves as Ravena rode toward the Glass City. She flew through the White Forest, past the Palace, through the market, and pulled Maple to a thudding stop in front of Haven’s Bakery. The windows were dark, but she had nowhere else to go. She pounded on the thick, wooden door. “Mr. Haven!” She cried, “Mr. Haven, please! I need your help!” 

Thalor Grimscar laid under the boughs of the swamp trees, staring at the stars that blinked at him through the branches. The skies were clear, but the mossy ground was damp and the trees and grasses seemed to melt in the dense humidity. The wetlands were warmer than the White Forest, but it seemed like the cold had made a home in his bones.

It was late now, close to midnight. The spring days had been getting hotter but winter’s chill returned each night and settled into Ravena’s bones. She’d ridden Maple along the river’s edge towards home until she knew she’d ridden farther than Thal could’ve rowed by now, and now she sat in wait, like a hunter for its prey. The gentle sound of oars dipping into the water perked up Maple’s ears, and as Thal’s boat rounded the bend, she nudged Maple around and set off in pursuit.

It was the perfect morning for a dive. The sun had warmed the sky before it had even emerged over the horizon. Ravena got to the water especially early to set things up. She wanted everything to look just perfect. She arranged the tea and the cake and the bread to perfection and tied her hair up in a soft green ribbon, to match her eyes. She knelt at the river’s edge and swished her hand in the gentle current. It was chilly enough to send goosebumps up her arm, but it had rained overnight, and the late spring rains were warming the earth. The White Forest looked magical this morning. Everything was covered in dew, and the birds seemed a little more cheerful today. And so did she. 

 Over the days that followed, Ravena and Thal created a bit of a routine. Ravena would meet Thal at the river’s edge in the early morning hours. He’d bring a loaf of bread and a canteen full of tea and sometimes an apple or two. He would attempt conversation and receive silence in return. Ravena would tie Maple to the tree while he started a fire. She would tuck her chemise into a pair of short pants and tame her wild hair into a braid and dip into the frigid waters by the time the sun came up. Armed with a net, a knife, and her sturdy lungs, she was swallowed by the lagoon and regurgitated bearing the catchings of one full trap at a time. 

Ravena sat on the shore of the Glass River shelling a golden lobster, listening to the relaxing noises of river, breeze, and Maple munching grass behind her. The rest of her trappings stayed fresh and alive in her bag, which floated in the river, tethered to the tree she learned against. The strap creaked gently under the weight of the bag. Today, she’d caught eleven lobsters, her biggest catch yet. Most days she cooked the first one she caught, but on days like this, where she had more traps to empty and had yet to haul anything to the market, she wolfed one down raw between retrievals. She was just extracting the last of the succulent flesh out of the shell with her teeth when she heard a low melody float on the breeze from downriver. Just as the song reached her ears she saw a small boat, bow overlaid in gold, sailing up against the current towards her. 

The murky water stung her eyes as she frantically searched the riverbed. She couldn’t go home empty-handed again. She had to find something, anything, and the light was fading fast. She spotted a clearer opening upriver. She swam to the head of the green Glass River, where the freshest water spilled down the mountainside and created a waterfall. She searched the river floor through squinted eyes; not a rock to be found. Blast it. She needed rocks. Where there were rocks, there was gold. And she needed gold desperately. When the light disappeared at last, Ravena pushed out of the soft river grasses and propelled her lean body up and above the surface of the icy river.