We placed our order, and it was done. They said it would be. All we had to do now was wait. It seemed ludicrously easy: just ask, and it is done. I sat there twiddling my thumbs, wondering.
“Shh” they said, “Trust”
I took deep breaths, and arranged my features in a serene trusting face. At least I thought I did.
“Are you in pain?” He asked me
“No”
“Good.” He nodded and went back to his book.
“So do we just wait here then?” I asked
“If you like.”
I folded my hands in my lap. My legs started jittering. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed. I smoothed down the top of my skirt over my thighs, willing my legs to settle, and they did. I was waiting. I wanted to wait. Didn’t I?
Then a raven landed at my feet and fixed me with one eye, his head tilted to one side. In his beak was a white, shining marble. I looked back at the bird, nodding slightly in greeting. That seemed to satisfy him, and he flew onto my lap. He placed the marble down and it rolled into the centre of my skirt. Then he flew away and perched a small way off, watching me. I picked up the marble; it was cool and smooth. I rolled it between my fingers and placed it in my palm, looking at it.
At first the pearly surface showed me a fragment of my reflection and bits of the room around me, but as I continued to look at it, the surface moved and changed, and then I realised that I was seeing a forest in the moonlight.
Treetops were moving, as if I was drifting past them, carried by something. And then I realised I was being carried, and I was no longer in the room at all, but in the milky moonlit night.