Dappled sunlight filtered through the tall pines, creating golden drops of light on the forest floor.

One sunbeam cut throught the dense foilage, highlighting a small group of clustered mushrooms growing up through the mossy litter. The woman, upon passing, spotted the delicate objects, stopping to add them to the contents of the basket she carried, delighted by their velvety texture.

Any passers-by would have instantly stopped to stare if they had spotted this ethereal beauty framed in the narrow beam, and would have wondered, had she turned her gaze on them, if she were not a vision; such was the perfection of her face. Her skin was the color of cream, save for the softest rose tint that lightly brushed the tops of her cheeks, A delicate nose, soft, seductive mouth and gracefully arched brows set off her features, but it was certainly her eyes that were most captivating. Doe-like and innocent, her thick feathery lashes framed soul-searching orbs the color of twilight.

She was barefoot and modestly dressed in a well-worn frock that had seen better days, the once-brilliant colors faded with the passing of time. Her unfettered hair; a rich shade of ebony, spilled like ink over her shoulders and back, flowing down to her hips, lilting gently in the cool woodland breeze.

She walked with a natural catlike grace as she continued on her way, collecting the various herbs and berries that made up the potions and healing ointments that the nearby villagers would occasionally purchase. She was a healer by trade.

Her basket nearly full, the young woman, whose name was Laurel, decided to return to her modest cottage, when she heard a slight rustling in a clump of leaves nearby. Curious, she went to investigate, hoping to perhaps spy upon a nest of baby rabbits or a hidden fawn. She quietly crouched near the rustled leaves, carefully parting them so as not to unduly startle whatever lay within. Her eyes widened as she gazed at her discovery.

With a sorrowful sigh, she gently lifted a large, wounded bird from the hideaway, laying it on her lap and stroking it soothingly to reassure it. It was a raven.

The poor bird was too weak to struggle, it's right wing hung at an unnatural angle, obviously broken. It lay on her lap calmly, it's shiny black eyes watching her with an oddly sad expression that seemed nearly human.

"You poor thing!" Laurel exclaimed. "You must have been lying here for quite some time, hoping someone would come along to help you…well, now I've found you, and I shall bring you to my home and set your wing."

She continued to stroke the seemingly sad bird, feeling a deep compassion for the grief it had suffered. The raven closed its eyes, as if relieved, letting out a small puff of air that sounded remarkably like a sigh. Laurel smiled at that, enchanted that this wild creature would so instantly trust her. Carefully cradling the raven in her arms, and gathering up her basket, Laurel got to her feet and headed toward home.

Upon returning to her cottage, a quaint little stone structure which was situated in a small glen just outside the small village, Laurel set down her basket of herbs on the hearth and gently lay the injured raven on the coverlet of her neatly made bed.

The raven lay placidly, his broken wing drooping. She found a soft blanket and another woven basket, and fashioned a bed for her new guest.

"Now I've got to set your wing," Laurel said to the bird, finding two straight pieces of kindling and a small clean rag, which she brought over to the bed, sitting down next to the raven.

She tore the rag into neat strips, laying them aside, and gently examined the bird's injured limb, marveling at the calm that her patient displayed despite what must surely be an uncomfortable proceedure.

"Why, it's almost as if you understand that I'm trying to help you," she said to the raven.

At her voice, the raven tipped his head ever so slightly, in an attitude of listening.

Laurel located the two broken ends of the the bone inside the bird's wing, wincing as she thought about how much it would hurt, but she would have to realign them.

"Forgive me, dear bird, I know this is going to hurt, but there's no other way to set your injury."

As quickly and gently as she could, she moved the bone back together, instantly setting his wing back into alignment. Apart from a quick jerk of his head and latching onto the coverlet with his claws at the sharp pain, the raven didn't struggle, even as she skillfully applied the kindling splint and bandages. She fastened the wing tightly against the bird's body, so it would have a chance to heal undisturbed.

"There now, my charming new friend," she said, examining her handiwork. "Within a few weeks, you should be flying again as if nothing had happened."

The raven stood up on his feet, shaking his good wing out with a rustle, then hopping over to her bedpost. He crouched and jumped up, perching on the carved wood slats, starting to preen.

Laurel laughed, amused by his nonchalant air. She was already becoming quite attached to this large and potentially formidable creature. The villagers all shunned crows and ravens, believing them to be in league with the Devil, but Laurel had no such fears. She got up and walked over to the bird, putting her arm down next to his feet.

He carefully stepped onto her arm, tightening his grip just enough not to fall, but not enough to pierce her unprotected skin with his sharp claws.
She lifted him up so she could see him, face to face. He turned his head slightly, appearing to study her as she regarded him amusedly.
"Well, my noble friend," she said. "I think I'm going to like having you here with me. I do tend to get lonely living here all by myself, but now I have you keep me company."

She carried him off to the kitchen to get them both something to eat.

Over the next few weeks, as his wing continued to mend, the raven grew accustomed to the steady stream of villagers, mostly women, that came to call on his mistress. Apart from being a healer, Laurel was also highly regarded as a reliable fortune teller.

Many days the raven sat upon her shoulder, ignorant of the disapproving stares from the villagers who came by to see if they would meet their true love, or whether the rains would come early or some such. Instead, he seemed to watch carefully as Laurel practiced her skill with the cards of fortune.

As night would approach and the last visitor of the day had started back home, Laurel would tend to her garden, accompanied by her ebony companion. Upon returning to the cozy cottage, she'd stoke the fire, happily singing and preparing the evening meal.

Sometimes after eating, Laurel would sit at the table and prepare the potions and balms that would cure common ills. Mixing the dried herbs and various items with care, she would laugh and gently reprimand the raven when he would tease her with various hijinks.

One of his favorite pastimes was to steal various small items, hiding them about the cottage. Laurel would eventually find these trinkets in some of the strangest places. Nothing was sacred; a thimble in her shoe, a spoon under her pillow…Once she found several shiny coins inside her favorite teacup! The raven, upon realizing one of his hidden treasures had been discovered, would hop about on the table, flapping his unfettered wing, cawing loudly as if in glee. Laurel would scold him, half-heartedly, unable to stay mad at him for any length of time.

On some nights, after all was calm, the raven would perch on the arm of her favorite chair as she would sit by the fire. He seemed to listen in rapt attitude as Laurel would talk, telling him her innermost desires and wishes while absentmindedly stroking his glossy black plumage.

She had never been of a mind to marry, although she'd had many offers. "If I am patient," she would confide to the solemn creature, watching the dancing flames, dreamily, "I know the man I love will someday find me, and then I shall give my heart to him."

Hers was a fanciful nature, and on occasion she would speak to the bird as they settled in for the night; he in the makeshift nest she had fashioned for him, and she, curled up comfortably in her bed.

"If only," she said to him one night, as she mused aloud in the quiet dark, "if only I could find a man much like yourself, dear bird. So solemn, yet gentle. You always seem to listen to me as if you understand…Sometimes I have to wonder if you're not really a man, trapped by some evil enchantress, doomed to live out your days in the body of a bird." She had let out a long sigh, as the raven rustled in the basket.

"If that were truly so," she continued, "I only wish I could find a way to release you." She had curled up then, slipping into dream-filled repose. The raven, however, had not sleep after that.

In the quiet light of the myriad of stars shining through the open window of her bedchamber, he had stepped away from his bed, and silently walked over to gaze upon Laurel as she slept, not in the guise of the raven, but in a more presentable form.

His eyes caressed her shapely figure, not entirely hidden from view; the summer nights were warm and in her slumber she had carelessly tossed aside the light cover in order to feel the soft breeze from the window.

His arm was still bandaged, and he regarded his injury in annoyance, fighting the impulse to gather her up in his arms and make her entirely his own.

"Not yet," he said quietly, "I cannot reveal myself yet. But soon, my darling, soon I will give you the happiness you deserve." He reached out and lightly laid his hand against her cheek, marveling at the silky texture of her skin.

She stirred slightly, smiling in her sleep as if in the midst of a beautiful dream. On impulse, the dark figure bent and lay a gentle kiss on her slightly parted lips, tasting the sweetness of her breath and nearly losing his composure as his longing threatened to sweep his reason aside. He quickly stepped away from the bed, drawing a long, shuddering breath, placing a hand on his chest as if to quiet the furious beat of his heart.

He cursed himself, silently, for nearly giving in to his desire, but smiled nonetheless.

"At least it is sweet torture," he whispered, stepping over to the window and gazing out at the night; keeping watch over Laurel as he had every night since she'd found him.

One morning, while Laurel was hanging boughs of herbs out to dry, a woman from the village came running up the path to her cottage. She was terribly distraught, and could hardly speak, so out of breath was she from her desperate journey.
"You've got to come!" she exclaimed, as Laurel tried to soothe her, "It's my daughter, she's been attacked by a madman! She's been beaten and raped, I don't know what to do!"

Laurel immediately gathered her things, and followed the woman back to the village. The raven, having heard the woman's plea, could only watch as they left, still tied to flightlessness by the dressings he still wore.

When Laurel returned much later that day, the sun was already low in the west, and she looked very weary as she sat back in her chair. The raven hopped up on the chair arm, inquisitive, and flapped his good wing in agitation as she leaned forward with a sob, covering her face with her hands as she wept.

"I could do nothing to save her, dear raven; she was too grieviously wounded. She was but a mere child…what monster has done this?" She lay back and stroked him, and his heart swelled with pity; all the more painful that he dare not reveal his secret just yet.

The next day dawned brightly, and Laurel removed at last the bandages that had kept her dusky friend earthbound. He shook out his feathers, glad to be healed at last, and flapped his wings tentatively, testing their strength.

She took him upon her arm and went out the door, encouraging him to try his rediscovered freedom.

"Go now, dear one, I can keep you prisoner no longer."

She looked at him with tears in her eyes, so positive was she that he would forever leave her. He crouched and took off, soaring gracefully to the nearby trees, catching the wind and sailing up and over them, winging swiftly out of her sight.

She felt her breath catch in a sob as she watched him disappear, feeling an immediate loneliness sweep over herself; so much so that she impulsively stepped forward, arms outstretched in longing, the tears falling unchecked.
"I know I can't keep you," she called after him. "But I didn't fully realize how much I've grown to love you!" She turned back to the cottage, running inside, blinded by her grief.

Crossing the room, she threw herself down on the bed as she allowed her sorrow to overtake her; such was the pain in her heart.

The raven, having relished the thrill of flight once again, landed gracefully on her open windowsill. Seeing his mistress weeping uncontrollably, he flew over to her, landing beside her. Hearing a soft flutter, she looked up to see her beloved ebony bird gazing at her with seeming human concern. She sat up, wiping her eyes, her tears becoming laughter at the joy of his return.

That night, as he gazed at her sleeping form; so beautiful in the moonlight that streamed in through the window, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"At last, my beloved," he said. "I can now come to you."

In the village, since the attack on Meg Williams' daughter, no one had been able to rest very easily. The culprit had never been captured, and the women of the town grew even more frightened as word spread that two more women had been attacked

Laurel had tended to both of them, and although these women survived their brutal ordeals, neither could identify the man responsible. His face had been hidden, and he had overpowered each of them so swiftly, no justice could be wrought on these unthinkable crimes. The menfolk of the town held a meeting, determined to keep their village safe, but as yet, the beast remained at large.

Laurel was required to spend much time in the village these days, and on many an evening as she headed toward home, she felt her pulse quicken as the familiar path through the forest now seemed more menacing.

One evening, Laurel set out for home much later than usual. A small child in the village had been stricken with fever and she had been unwilling to leave him until the danger had past.

Her raven accompanied her everyday on her appointments, and now, more than ever, she was thankful for his presence as she hurried up the trail in the approaching gloom. The raven cawed overhead, flying from tree to tree, keeping up with her swift pace, and she glanced up to spot him, not aware of the danger ahead.

Suddenly, from the side of the pathway, Laurel screamed as a pair of rough hands grabbed her, pulling her into the forest.

She fell to her knees, trying to break free, but her assailant was much too strong. She screamed again as he threw her down to the ground, pinning her underneath his body, his hands tearing at her clothes.

Suddenly, her attacker was yanked off of her.

She scrambled to her feet, clutching the remains of her dress in modesty, realizing that someone had come to her aid. The moon was half full and afforded a dim view as she saw her assailant fly through the air, hitting a nearby tree with considerable force. He hit the ground with a thud, momentarily stunned, and the mask that he wore fell away from his face.

Laurel gasped in shock as she recognized the man. It was the husband of one of the local women who had regularly come to call on her.

The stranger who had come to her aid leapt at the assailant, determined to continue his revenge, but stopped instantly upon hearing Laurel's cry of disbelief; affording the culprit a desperate moment of escape. Seeing it was useless to continue his pursuit in the dark, the stranger rushed to Laurel's side, concerned for her welfare.
He dropped down beside her, gently taking her by the arms and helping her rise.

"Are you alright?" he said, peering at her tenderly, unsure of her condition. Laurel still gripped his arms uncertainly. Looking up at him gratefully, her eyes widened in surprise as she suddenly became more aware of his appearance.

He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

His hair, black as pitch, tumbled about his shoulders, framing the face of an angel. She had never seen such compassion in anyone's features. He continued to gaze at her with concern, the moonlight reflecting in eyes the color of emeralds; brilliantly shining as they seemed to caress her very soul. She could say nothing even as she opened her mouth to speak, such was her shock of being so near him.

Instead of pressing her further, he smiled gently and gathered her up in his arms, holding her close. He wore simple garb, wool trousers and a white peasant shirt that hung halfway open, and as she nestled her head against his bare chest, she inhaled deeply, taking in the clean, distinctly male scent of his skin almost hungrily.

They spent a short time in each other's company, then he led Laurel to her cottage, insisting she rest after such a tramatic ordeal. He promised to return in a few days time, leaving her with a passionate kiss that took her breath away and left her feeling almost lightheaded.

It wasn’t until she had practically danced into her home, closing the door and leaning against it with a faraway expression on her face, that she realized that she didn't even know her rescuers' name! With a start, she quickly opened the door, running outside to see if she could stop him before he'd gotten too far away, but stopped in mid-stride as she realized he was nowhere to be seen.

"How could he have crossed the glen so quickly?" she said aloud, puzzled. She returned to her cottage somewhat disappointed, just in time to see her raven land on the windowsill.

"There you are, my love…" she said, as he flew over to her and landed on her shoulder, playfully tugging on a stray lock of her hair.

Now that she was certain of the identity of the rapist, she set out to the village the next morning, intending to notify the town counsel. As she approached the town however, a man on a horse came up swiftly from a side road and cut her off. It was her assailant!

She turned to run, but he jumped off his horse and grabbed her by the arm, clamping a hand over her mouth before she could scream. He pulled her close to himself and put a knife to her throat.

"I'll warn you only once," he whispered in her ear as she shook with fright, "My wife knows nothing of this. If you ever tell what you know, I'll kill her first, then I'll come after you. We're leaving this village in a few days time, so if you say nothing, I'll never bother you again. Do you understand?"

Laurel nodded her head, gingerly, feeling the cold blade press against her white throat.

He released her with a rough shove, sending her to the ground. Just as he turned to remount his horse, the raven swooped down out of the sky, sinking his sharp claws into the back of the man's neck, stabbing with his beak at the man's face as he hung on, his wings beating furiously as he refused to let go.

Completely taken by surprise, the man lashed out at the bird, yelling in pain as he felt his skin being ripped apart by the sharp beak and claws in the vicious attack. Laurel scrambled to her feet.
"No!" she screamed, terrified, as the man grabbed the raven, pulling him off. With a swift movement, he broke the bird's neck, flinging it's body at Laurel as he jumped aboard his horse, wheeling the animal around and escaping down the road; still yelling in pain at the numerous wounds on his face and head.

Laurel dropped to her knees, sobbing as she cradled the lifeless body of her beloved companion, who had died to defend her.

Laurel buried her raven beneath an oak tree that evening. She sat down beside the small grave, unable to stop crying as the moon slowly rose, casting a silver glow on the surrounding landscape.

It seemed unbearable to her to return to her cottage, knowing that she'd never see her companion again. She never noticed the quiet footsteps that approached, until a gentle hand was laid on her shoulder, making her jump with sudden fear. Before she could scream, strong arms embraced her, and a reassuring voice in her ear immediately calmed her, as the mysterious man who'd rescued her last night tenderly held her.

That night, in the small stone cottage, in the soft glow of a single moonbeam that bathed their bodies in silver light, the two became one.

The next day, Laurel kissed her new lover as he left to go into the village for the day. As she worked on her garden to pass the time, the wife of the man who had threatened her yesterday, came running up the path, calling to her. Laurel, upon realizing who approached, apprehensively met her. Has she found out somehow what her husband has done?

"Oh Laurel," the woman cried, obviously distraught. "My husband was attacked by some sort of animal yesterday. I cleaned and dressed the wounds, but now they seem to be infected! I've no more of that ointment you gave me when I suffered that nasty cut on my leg…would it be possible to sell me some more?"

Laurel didn't know what to say as she led the woman inside, sitting her at the table. She put the kettle on for tea, as the woman prattled on about the recent attacks and how fearful she was of who'd be the next victim. Laurel poured some tea for her, as she pretended to listen. I can't bear the thought of more women falling prey to that beast, and I can't sentence this poor woman to certain death if I ever tell what I know…there must be a way to stop him!

She excused herself and went to the small storage room where she kept the numerous jars of powders and tinctures she offered for sale. She took down a jar of the ointment the woman had requested, as a plan quickly formed in her mind. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that her guest was preoccupied with her own thoughts, sipping her tea and staring out the window.

Hurridly, Laurel mixed together a small batch of ingredients intended to help a person sleep at night, but she also added another ingredient in a lethal dose, which would stop a person's heart as they slept. No one would ever know.

May God forgive me, she thought, as she wrapped the lethal powder in a small linen cloth, but I cannot allow this evil to go on any longer!

She gave the items to the woman, instructing her to administer the powder to her husband before bedtime, steeping the brew as a tea, so as to allow him to sleep restfully. The woman thanked her gratefully, offering Laurel double the coins in exchange, but Laurel refused, telling her that she only hoped that everything would work out for the best.

She escorted the woman to her door, and as she left, Laurel had to sit down, overwhelmed by guilt as she realized she'd just sentenced someone to death.

Her lover returned a few hours later, and as they lay together entertwined, Laurel was able to drive all thoughts from her mind, so enraptured was she, realizing that she had found the true love of her life.

As she lay against him, he stroked her hair gently, unable to take his eyes off the beautiful creature in his arms. I have never felt such bliss, he thought, so pure, so kind and caring; with you I shall begin a new life of happiness and love.

"Laurel," he whispered.

She raised herself up on her arm to gaze at him with eyes filled with love.

"Say that you'll marry me! I need you beside me," he said, "If you will have me as you husband, you would be giving me a gift that I'd never thought possible, a life filled with joy."

Her eyes filled with tears of happiness as she accepted his proposal. How could she ever refuse? She had so patiently waited her entire life for a man such as this! As he brought his arms around her again, she felt such joy in her heart that she feared it would burst. Their laughter filtered out of the cozy bedchamber, as they celebrated their union in hungry delight.

Late into the night, Laurel was rudely awakened by the violent roar of thunder. Lightning illuminated the inside of her bedroom, immediately followed by a tremendous crash that made her jump out of bed to fasten the shutters tightly as rain started to pour from the skies. As she locked the last window, she realized that she was alone in the cottage. Where had he gone?

She ran outside to see if he was nearby, but the rain drove her back inside, completely drenched. Shivering, she started a fire in the hearth, and huddled near the flickering flames as the storm continued with no sign of letting up anytime soon.

An hour later, Laurel heard the door open slowly. Turning around, she ran to his arms as he stepped inside.

"Where have you been? I thought perhaps you'd gone out for a walk, and become trapped in the storm.." she said, suddenly realizing that although the storm still raged, his clothes and hair were completely dry!

He gently pushed her away from him, looking as though his heart had broken.

She looked at him, confused. "What is it? What's happened? You look so sad…can't you tell me?" He walked away from her to stand with his back to the fire, facing her. With the light at his back his face was shadowed, she could hardly make out his features.

"Why did you kill him?" he said quietly. There was enormous pain in his voice.

Laurel felt her blood run cold as she could do nothing but stare. How could he know?

"Wh…what do you mean?" she stammered, reaching for the chair by table. She sat down, weakly. "Who has died?"

"The man who attacked you and all those other women. The man who broke my neck."

Laurel felt as though her world was starting to swim. "I.. I don't understand…"

He covered his face with his hands, moaning as if in desperate pain at her words.

"Laurel, do not add to my pain with more lies! I thought you were the one who could ease my tortured soul, that yours was the heart that would never be tainted."

She started to rise from the chair to run to him, but he pulled himself up and thrust his hand in front of himself, stopping her instantly. She sat back down, almost as if he had taken her by the shoulders, forceably. His presence was suddenly so intimidating, she felt her heart start to beat at a faster pace. The first cold fingers of fear started to wrap themselves around her.

"I loved you from the moment I saw you, Laurel," he said, his voice filled with pain. "When you brought me into your home and cared for my injury, I realized that I wanted you to be by my side forever. I was never so happy as when I was your constant companion."

Laurel's expression was slowly changing to one of horror. "What are you saying? You can't possibly mean…it's not possible to…are you telling me that you…"

He nodded sadly. "Yes Laurel…I was the raven."

She looked at him in utter shock. "But you died! I…I buried your body myself! You came to me as I sat by the grave! How could you be alive?"

"I cannot die," he said, "…Such is my fate. I've waited an eternity to find a woman whose heart was pure, a woman whose kindness and compassion would enable me to truly love! I would give up everything merely to spend a brief moment basking in the goodness you radiated! …But you failed me. You lost your purity forever when you gave the poison to that woman, and now you have forced me to follow my destiny." He sounded so tired, so disappointed, Laurel's heart felt as though it was shattering with every word he spoke. She lowered her head and wept in her hands.

"How can this be?" she cried, "please, please forgive me! I'll do anything…Anything, just give me another chance…" She couldn't face him, couldn't bear to look at his beautiful face.

He approached the sobbing woman slowly, feeling her pain as he stood over her. Laying his hand on her shoulder, he dreaded what he was about to say.

"Laurel," he said, gently, "I never wanted you to know who I was. Remember when, as the raven, I used to take some of your belongings and hide them?" She nodded, still weeping, still unwilling to gaze at him.

"I'm now returning the one item you never knew I hid." He took her hand from her lowered face and placed something within it, closing her fingers around it. She opened her hand slowly, seeing what he'd given her.

It was the card of Death from her tarot deck. She shook her head, not understanding, as he tenderly placed his fingers under her chin, lifting her still beautiful, tear-stained face to gaze at him.

Her eyes widened in terror and a scream ripped itself from her throat as she recognized her lover's one true identity.

The Reaper bent closer for one final kiss…

The End.

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