As she neared, still clicking and making that strange sound, the birds took flight as one and flew straight at the witch. She held out her arms and lowered her head, giving them room to roost. One on each foot, three on each arm, two on her head, Hope was almost lost beneath the beating wings and ruffled feathers of the skull ravens, though she stood fast. And the birds were making a noise now, calling out in clicks and clacks similar to those that Hope had been uttering.

Rafe gasped, wanting to help yet desperate to turn and ride away as fast as he could. Don’t be scared, Hope had said. He could only assume that she knew what she was doing.

Hope stood that way for some time, the noisy communication continuing. The horses stood still and silent, perhaps asleep. The death moon revealed itself fully, becoming the brightest object in the sky, and Rafe stared at it for some time. The life moon was on the fade. Their combined glows did not fight, but merged peacefully, yellow bleeding to white, white tinting to yellow. And their light struck the ground in different ways. On a distant hillside a clump of trees sucked in the glow from the life moon, green leaves hued white at dusk. Nearer the summit of that same hill, an ancient burial mound reflected yellow, the dark rocks lightening at night. As Rafe stared at the death moon he thought of his parents.

The skull ravens called out loud, and for an instant he was sure that they were attacking Hope, piercing her with beaks and claws as retribution for some terrible tactlessness. The horses stirred and stamped their feet, and it was all Rafe could do to bring his mount under control while holding tightly to Hope’s horse’s reins.

The birds were taking flight. They rose as one, flying in a tight spiral above Hope. She stood with arms outstretched as if still inviting them back. It had grown too dark for Rafe to see her expression when she turned around, but the fact that she was moving, coming toward him, showed that she was unhurt.

The skull ravens cried out until they were high in the air, almost too high to hear. They were one of the few species that flew almost entirely by night.

“What was that?” Rafe asked as Hope approached.

She seemed exhausted. She rubbed at her shoulders and sides, sighing, hair hanging lank. Even her tattoos seemed tired, dragging her face down. “I gave them a message for the thief and his Shantasi,” Hope said. “Rafe, we need to make camp and sleep. It’s been a long time since I communed outside my species.”

He thought there was humor in her voice, but because she had her head dipped he could not see her eyes. And he did not understand.