White Raven

I was asleep when I first saw the White Raven.

It was such a weird dream. I was on Mars, in a newly set up hab. Looking through the crystal polycast at the stars. We were having a lesson on the new star scape so if we ever got lost on assignment we could get back.

Suddenly a white figure flew gracefully across my vision. It perched on a stool next to the door. It spoke to me, but not through it’s own beak, rather he spoke polyphonic through the people all around me.

“The stars are precious to me,” it echoed. “At one time they were threatened. I’m looking for a guardian to keep them safe, safe from those who would extinguish their beauty and use their power for destruction. Can you be that guardian?”

I sputtered, “I. . . I don’t know.”

“I need to know,” it crooned through the voice of a small child, “Time is not a straight line like mortals believe.  It’s a spiral, and ever twisting in and around itself. It might be tomorrow, or it might be generations from now when I need you. But I do need you.”

It was hard to fathom what was being asked of me, asked of my family. But If I didn’t. . .

I turned to tell the Raven that I would, a thrill of excitement and nervous for what would actually be asked of me.  

Then I woke up.