Quoth
Written by Kai Toh
To Kyle ... Always to Kyle ...
Autumn, 1981.
I was walking home with bags in hand after grocery shopping on a fall day in the outskirts of rural Ontario. About two blocks from home on a quiet street, I saw the flutter of feathers and a grey cat. It looked like the feline got the better of the exchange and the poor bird would not be for much longer. The bird’s eye gleamed in the sunlight, connecting with mine. Then quicker than reflex, I found myself dropping everything and chasing the cat away. It reluctantly fled, at first willing to fight — through hunger or hatred — for its prey. The bird was a raven. It had two different coloured eyes: one blue and one brown. It was bleeding. I tried to lift it, but it cried out, not wanting to be touched. After what seemed like many minutes but in actuality was hardly anytime at all, it began to hop and tested its injured wing. I watched it, and then abruptly, it flew from the ground, unsteady initially, but it managed to fumble its way to a low branch. It looked at me and croaked what I thought was a thank you. I took a step towards it, but it cawed which I interpreted as no further help was needed. Picking up my scattered groceries that had rolled across the street, I went home.
* * * * *
Over a week later, I left the house to go to the post office, and, to my surprise, I saw the same raven, perched on the railing of my veranda. It had a piece of paper in its mouth. I carefully took it from its beak, not wanting to be pecked. It was a picture of a braided, dark-haired, young woman with some barely decipherable writing on the bottom: Lenora Whitewolf.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I asked the raven.
“Phhinndd,” it croaked.
“Find?” I laughed. “What do I know about finding people?”
“Phhinndd,” it repeated. I think I saw a wink or perhaps it was that familiar light flicker. In any event, it flew away. At least, it fully recovered.
* * * * *
“Hello, Kyah, is it?” I asked on the telephone.
“Yes, speaking.”
“You are one of the elders of the K’i-RooOs clan. Do you know of a young woman named Lenora Whitewolf? This will sound crazy but a raven I rescued from a cat gave me a picture of this woman, and it croaked what I heard was the word, ‘find.’”
“It does not sound crazy at all,” he said.
“I hope you can help,” I said. “I’ve spent way too much time on this.”
“Lenora is not here anymore. She left here around five years ago. I forgot where she said she was going, but it was off the reserve. She was looking to find better work and opportunities. There were rumours that she was dating someone a year or two after she left, but after a while no one heard from her.”
“Do you have any idea what town she went to?”
“I remember her sister talking about her and how she was deeply offended — as most Indigenous would be — that the local baseball team where she was living was called ‘tribe’ with the mascot misrepresenting — to put it kindly — Indigenous culture.”
“That’s a lead but, then again, she might have moved on from there,” I thought out loud.
“Very true,” he said.
“Out of curiosity, are there stories of ravens in your culture?”
“Not that many. We revere many animal spirits with emphasis on the bear and the coyote. I do recall one story with a raven in it. It has been passed on for generations.”
“Please do share.”
“Pwak was the greatest leader of the K’iRooOs clan in days long ago. Once in his youth, he found himself separated from his hunting party with darkness falling. Cold crept in and the wind blew harsh and our young leader was far from home. Just before the light disappeared, a black bird flew close overhead and settled on the limb of a tree. Seeing concern on his visage, the raven spoke, saying ‘follow.’ Pwak did so, stumbling in the dark, until they reached a raging river, 50-feet wide, with rapids violent.
“The raven again said ‘follow,’ and this time, it led him to a cave of fallen trees. It was warm, dry and safe. ‘Rest,’ said the raven as it settled into a corner while Pwak attempted to get some sleep.
“The bright, burning sunlight awoke him. No longer was he in a shelter of dead trees but on the main trail leading back to his home. How did he get here? He found himself on the other side of the river. If he was moved, would not he have awakened? There were some tears to the clothes he wore and a slight wound to the flesh underneath, made by something pointed and sharp.
“He heard the sound of a bird and saw what he thought was the same raven perched on a high bough. It looked at Pwak, croaked once, and flew away.”
“Interesting,” I said. “Is it saying that the raven helped move the young leader in some way?”
“Yes, some think, a dozen, dozen ravens picked him up. Others are of the opinion this one raven is incredibly strong. Perhaps the raven can modify its size. It is quite ambiguous as to how it supposedly helped.”
“I see. What is your opinion or belief as to the supernatural elements of these stories? Are they to be believed literally and taken seriously?” I asked.
“Are there animals out there, somewhere, with supernatural abilities beyond what the white man knows? I would say, yes. Your raven has some sort of plan that he wants you to help in. This is not coincidence or luck or a random animal giving you a random picture. The raven has intention. Do I believe such a raven could command other ravens to attack or assist as an individual or group? Definitely. Do I believe that it can lift up a full-size human? No. Do I believe there are ravens that can modify their size? In the past, yes. In the present, I’m not quite sure, but am leaning towards yes.”
“Just say Lenora was somehow wronged, there are no tales of some vigilante spirits known to avenge these misdeeds, are there?”
“I wish there was such a being. I am a peaceful man, but I would not mind vengeance to all the atrocities done to our people.” He then immediately regretted his words. “That is too harsh. Let me rephrase. I would be sympathetic to such a being but ultimately would object to his actions. We must resolve and make peace with our enemies.”
“Indeed, indeed,” I said.
* * * * *
As I was eating my dinner that took way too long to prepare because of a badly written recipe, I heard a knock on the door. The doorbell had been broken for months, but I hadn’t gotten around to fixing it. A slightly short, thin man — I’d say 5’5” — was at my door, hooded and dressed all in black. He wore sunglasses, and had long black hair, his features hidden under ample facial hair.
“The raven was mine. Find the woman please,” he requested.
“Oh, that raven is yours. I didn’t know they could even be trained. Yeah, I could not really find out that much. She went missing three months ago and was part of the K’iRooOs clan.” I passed on what I found out from Kyah, wanting him to know that I put real effort into trying to help him.
“I need more.”
“I’ve done all I can. You need a private investigator or something,” I told him.
“Find me one.”
“I can do that, but we have to pay him. I’ll need money.”
He nodded and put his hand in his back pocket and handed me a folded roll of bills. They were all fifties and there were a lot of them. I estimated close to a thousand. “This should do,” I said.
“Keep the rest.”
That is a nice bonus. Some people would say, no, no, you keep it. Not me, I got money troubles. “Thank you. That’s very generous of you.”
He nodded once more, turned around, and walked away. I watched him go, subconsciously trying to find out more about this strange person, but his leaving revealed nothing.
* * * * *
I am pretty sure it was a week before Halloween when my door knocked again. I don’t remember what I was watching, but I was really into it and this interruption annoyed me. However, that quickly dissipated when I saw who it was. It was Raven Guy as I nicknamed him. Who keeps raven as pets anyway? This was all very strange. I like facts and evidence, but maybe there is something to these Indigenous animal beliefs.
“Hello, my friend,” I said warmly, a contrast to the chilly weather. “Would you like to come in?”
He declined as I knew he would. I kept the private eye’s report near the door to have it quickly on hand. “There’s a lot of info, but basically, she’s Indigenous and she left the reserve, looking for more opportunities. She found work as a waitress at a pub. A man named Jarron Olafson met her there. They started dating. Some witnesses said they saw them fighting in public. There was a 911 call to his place about domestic violence. The new friends that she made said she would break down and cry at times and that Jarron was abusive. When friends reported her missing, the police asked Jarron about it. He said they had a fight, and she left, and he has never heard from her since. No arrests or anything.”
He nodded, took the report, turned around and walked away. Not much social skills, this guy.
* * * * *
It was a week later on Halloween night. There were not too many kids in my older neighbourhood. As usual, I bought too much candy. Another knock on the door.
A tall kid in black without a bag was at the door. He said deadpanned, “trick or treat.”
I burst out laughing. “Haha, you have a sense of humour. What brings you by?”
Raven Guy showed me the report and pointed with a black gloved hand to the boyfriend’s address. “Take me there.”
“That’s far from here, maybe an hour and a half drive. When were you thinking of going?” I asked.
“Now.”
“Tonight? On Halloween? I guess. Uh, sure. I’m not really doing anything.”
He again went to his back pocket and handed me a bunch of bills, again all fifties. This was a smaller stack, but there was no one to share it with this time. “Okay, let’s go.”
Some kids were coming up the walkway. I just took the remaining candy and left it on the porch. He knew to go to the passenger side of the car. I got in the driver’s side, unlocked his door, and he opened it and sat down. I’d bet a lot of money that he did not know how to use the seat belt. “You got to pull here and click there because if we have to stop suddenly, you move in the car and can bang into things and really get hurt.”
He saw me do it and picked it up instantly. I tried to sneak a glance at him to try to learn more about him. He was obviously quiet, but he was very still and sat upright. He had this demeanour of knowing he was different and not caring, which I admired. Despite his small stature, I sensed he thought himself as an authority figure: the one to instruct and not be instructed. It looks like he was used to getting his way. My plans to find out more about him failed as he said, “no talking please. Classic rock station.”
“Sure, there are a couple of stations. I don’t know if they go all to way to where we are going. I love rock music. I can give you a history of it if you want. It is a long trip. You don’t have to talk,” I offered.
He nodded, and I wondered if he was simply humouring me and putting up with me so he did not have to speak. Well, I wasn’t bluffing and laid it on him. I would give the history of each song played, when it came out, how well it did on the charts, the history of the singer or band at the time. I don’t know if it was sinking in or even if he was listening. Sometimes he would move from his stillness which I took as interest, or maybe it was just us going over a bump. When I made up a fantastical history of one of the songs, he cleared his throat, which to me indicated to me that I should stop doing that. He wasn’t feeling too well, and I stopped at a drug store to buy some motion sickness medicine. After giving it to him, along with some snacks, he looked better. What a strange night indeed.
Later, when I pulled onto Jarron’s street, Raven Guy told me to stop and park away from the house. I did so. He unbuckled his belt and opened the door. “How will you get home?”
“I am fine. You go home,” he instructed.
Like always when dealing with this person — if that is the right term because he reminded of no one I ever knew — I did what I was told. Why does he like rock music? I think in the report it mentioned Lenora going to see some local rock band years ago. Hmmm.
* * * * *
The police from Olafson’s town called about two weeks later. I was impressed that they tracked down our private eye and found out that I hired him. It seemed Jarron Olafson went missing nine days after Halloween. I was working at that time and was seen by dozens, so my alibi was solid. I told them the truth, leaving out the cat and the raven and the raven giving me a picture. I downplayed the amount of money he gave because I did not want it confiscated. The interviewing officer was highly skeptical — as he should be — and, in the end, gave me his number in case I had anything more to add.
Did Raven Guy do something to Jarron? How could he? A breeze could blow him over though he intimidated me a little and acted like he could handle himself. Olafson was a heavy-set man, over 300 pounds and six feet tall. Maybe he called all his raven friends and pecked him to death. Still, how do you get rid of such a large body and do all this without anybody seeing anything? Also, there was not enough evidence of guilt according to what the private eye reported, no smoking gun. Would my Raven Guy kill Olafson not knowing all the facts? I somehow think he would think things through like me. Interesting.
I waited for their police to call or for our local police, working in conjunction with theirs, to follow up … but months passed … and nothing.
* * * * *
Spring was coming soon. I pulled into my driveway, after a traffic-filled commute home. Someone was sitting on my porch waiting for me. As I got out of my car, a chubby, greying, middle-aged man greeted me, “Hi, sorry to bother you. You probably heard that Jarron Olafson died.”
“Really? No, I did not,” I said. “I knew he was missing.”
“Yes, they found his remains in a dense wooded area a fair distance out of town. There was a dead female corpse nearby.”
“Lenora?” I asked.
“That’s his girlfriend that was missing months before he disappeared. Most likely, though there is no official confirmation by the authorities.”
“Do they know how he died?” I wondered.
“There was so much decomposition on the female body that it was hard to tell, so I was told. There was a lot of trauma to Jarron but nothing conclusive. I have some friends of friends on the force, and I asked around and they told me about you and how a dark-dressed, short man, got you to help him find Lenora. It led you to Jarron, and you two drove up there.”
I did not like that he knew so much about me. “Yes, that’s true.”
“Well, I saw what happened the night he disappeared: the man dressed in black — at least I think it was him — and Jarron.”
“Really?” My interest was seriously piqued. “Maybe we should talk about this inside.”
“Sure, good idea,” he said as we made our way to the living room.
“Coffee?” I offered.
“No thank you,” he said, taking off his jacket. “Might want to sit down for this, though you’ll never believe me.”
I sat down on the couch while he remained standing. “So, you never told the cops about seeing this?”
“No, they wouldn’t believe me. You’re not going to believe me.”
“Well … try me,” I invited.
“Sure. His house is secluded as you know. Lots of tall trees and privacy. I borrowed a hand drill from him a while back. I live down the street, quite a walk. Years ago, we met in the park and started talking. So, I was walking to his house to return the drill. It was dark. Jarron left his car and this shadowy black figure sort of grabbed him. It attacked him and for some reason there wasn’t much of a struggle. I thought it was a man at first but then I saw what I thought were wings. Then its head turned, and I saw a beak and it pecked at Jarron just once and he was lifeless after that. Crazy, because Jarron is a huge man. It then picked up Jarron with its clawed feet and flew off. It was like a man-size bird. It looked like a crow or a raven. I think it flew pretty low and into trees so that they would not be detected. That was the last time I saw of either of them.”
“That’s quite a story,” I said, not knowing what to believe.
“I swear that’s what I saw. That’s why I drove up here to talk to you. I want to see if there were any signs that your friend in black is this creature.”
“Hold on, this just shows that supposedly some creature killed Jarron but not that the guy I know was there or had anything to do with it,” I said.
“Right. Now, I went down to the car after they left and I did not see anything, but I started looking around the area and I found, folded in the brush on the other side of the street, some black clothes. I took them. Here, let me show them to you.” He showed me pictures of the clothes. “I got them in the car if you want a closer look.”
“No need. Yeah, those are his clothes,” I said. There were details in the clothes that indicated it was his, like a half-inch tear on the right side of the hood just above the ear.
He exclaimed, “I knew it. I knew it. It is him! Your buddy is this avenging raven creature!” He saw the look of disbelief on my face. “I guess you don’t believe that?”
“I’m the type of person who needs need evidence to believe things.” This in a nutshell was the skeptical viewpoint.
“With everything you’ve experienced with this guy, you don’t think something is going on?”
“Yes, it is very strange but that’s a far cry from some half-raven, half-man creature existing. That I cannot believe. It breaks the law of biology and physics as we know it,” I told him.
“Fair enough,” he said. “Actually, let me take you up on that offer of coffee.”
“Sure,” I said getting up.
* * * * *
Months later, in the summer, there was another knock on the door. I’ll get to that doorbell someday.
“Oh my, it’s you. Would you like to come in?” I said, upon seeing Raven Guy.
My friend, the man in black though not dressed that way today, shook his head. He looked completely different, wearing blue jeans and a grey hooded sweater instead. His hair was tied up on top and he was clean shaven though he still wore the same shades.
“Jarron’s neighbour came by and told me you turned into a half-raven, half-man being and swooped the boyfriend away.”
The man did not move or say anything.
“Now, you don’t have to tell me. I’m not wearing a wire or anything. What happened to Jarron?”
He did not answer.
“Okay, fair enough. I didn’t really expect an answer. What brings you by?” I asked.
“Look,” he said and in his bare hand was a raven necklace, the same necklace in the photo of Lenora.
“You found her?” I exclaimed.
He nodded.
“The neighbour said Jarron’s corpse was found with a female corpse. Was that her?”
Silence and no movement.
“Okay, fair enough, I guess you’re not telling the police.”
No response.
“In the P.I. report, it said before Lenora left the reserve, she was really into the outdoors and spent nearly a year away from home. They said she got together with some hermit who lived in the woods, but it did not work out. Are you that guy?” I asked, and it looked like a slight smile was about to creep onto his face, but it quickly faded. After that, he was expressionless.
“You saved a life.”
“You mean I saved your raven?”
He did not answer.
“Goodbye.”
For some reason, my heart dropped when he said it. I liked him coming by, the mystery, the craziness, the randomness, the acute break from the routine. The way he said it though, I knew I would never see him again.
I expected him to turn and walk away like he always did but this time was different. He took off his dark sunglasses, which revealed two different coloured eyes: one brown, one blue. He said in perfectly, clear, unaccented English in a voice I never heard from, “Thank you, my friend.” He took my hand and shook it in a painful vice-like grip. I wondered at the time if anything broke. He gave me a small, wooden cannister, maybe 3 cm long and 1 cm wide. “Find a box, put it outside your house. If you need me, write me a note, put it in what I gave you, put that in the box, a raven will retrieve it, and I will come.” He turned around and walked away. Looking back once, one of his eyes flickered. Probably just tricks with the light and the sun.
My head was spinning, trying to piece all the details together. First, how did he get that necklace? He must have found her corpse or stole it from the police? Finding her and taking it is somewhat possible. Now, Jarron’s dead and was found with Lenora. Who else in this world would kill him and place the body there? Lenora’s friends or family? I don’t think so. Only Raven guy has the motive. And he was definitely there. His clothes were found there. When I took him, he didn’t have a change of clothes? Why would he be walking around naked? He has the same blue and brown eyes as his raven, though I might be remembering wrong. He might have put on contacts to mess with me. I shouldn’t put too much weight in that. Neighbour says he transformed into some sort of monster. Maybe, he just needs glasses or is fantasy prone. Let’s see, Raven Guy killed Jarron somehow … and moved him to Lenora’s dead body … for some reason. No hocus-pocus there. That makes more sense a than one fantastical account of one eyewitness. Us skeptics, we live with ambiguity; we don’t like it, but we don’t run from it. It’s okay not to know and have opinions shift as new information and evidence comes in. Shape changer: 10%; non magical dark avenger 90%.
Hold on, Raven guy killed Jarron. Can’t prove it in court but most likely. What other plausible explanation is there? I sort of helped him kill Jarron. No guilt there though. Deserved to die and my causality was low. I had no idea Raven guy would do what he did … whatever he did. There is no blood on my hands.
I bought a bird house, created a little compartment for it so it could fit the container. It was the perfect size for a raven. I put birdseed in it and a particular raven made it it’s second home. This raven had and a small white splotch on its back on the right side. It created a nest in the same tree. I was delighted that the raven came, that my connection to this mysterious fellow was not completely severed. My dark companion said if I needed help, he would be there. I’m not sure what he could do, and I hope I never need to find out, but if such a dire circumstance arises, it will be more than a small consolation to see my mysterious friend once more.
This story continues in part II, Lenora