Sagenraven Birthday Story

Raven set the tip of her pencil to paper--then chucked the pencil across the room with a scream of frustration.

What was the point of even trying? For three months she'd been working on this one piece, and it was evading her. So, fine. It didn't want to play nice? Neither would she.

She crumpled the paper between her palms and stormed to the fire blazing in the grate. With a single goal, she raised her arm... but she couldn't throw it.

Not for lack of trying. Rather, it felt like some unseen force were holding her arm.

Raven opened her hand, and the paper tumbled to the worn hardwood. By the time it landed, the creases had unfurled, revealing the faces of the pair she'd worked so hard to bring to life.

Unsure what had just happened, determined not to be nested by her own drawing, Raven grabbed the pencil off the floor, knelt beside the paper, and readied herself to scribbling through it.

Instead, that unseen force returned to her hand, guiding her pencil to where she'd left off, the details that had remained blurred splotches in her mind. Line by line, the image evolved, until, finally, the dream that had inspired this piece existed before her.

And was... moving?