Aumakua

The hungry gods cut through the salty waves, sleek gray forms with basalt eyes. They were small gods, with a small place in the world. They had no temples, but only the half-hearted scraps of their Family's worship.

It was enough.

They circled the boat where the dark man, the Other, bent now over the fallen form of the Family's youngest daughter. He paid the gods no mind. He thought they had come for the girl's blood in the water.

And so they had.

They scraped the boat's sides with sandpaper skin. It tasted of vengeance.

Tonight, the gods would feast.

Remembrance of Me

I threw a stone, and it hit a bird. I know this. I know this.

I can see the stone, as if I held it now. I threw it. I hit the bird.

Raven on a fencepost. Sitting there. One of two, two ravens on the fence. Throw stones at them. Throw a stone at the raven.

I can’t think. I don’t know what to do. It said something. The raven spoke. I threw the stone and the raven spoke. It lay on the ground and it spoke.

“Brother!” it said. “Muninn!”

And then it died.

I threw a stone…