I wait on the branches as two more follow. Two more pairs of daylight-eyes, each with their own size and shape and noise. I assumed they go only one way, but here comes another- this time the opposite direction. They cannot be the sun. Perhaps they are born of the sun or stars or the fire beneath mountains.
Yes, Partner, I cannot stay here. The questions would only multiply and drive me to insanity. I should turn and retrace my path to the true river.
Before I can take to the air, a creeping white face emerges from the ferns below. An opossum. In the usual opossum way, it shuffles leisurely over the flat stone.
“Stop,” I caw. “Turn around! It’s not safe here.”
The possum hesitates, points his conical nose at me then lowers it and resumes his march. I float down beside him.
“Did you hear me? It’s not safe.”
“Of course it isn’t,” said the opossum. “Why else would I be here?”
Odd. I twist my beak. “You want those monsters to kill you?”
“They aren’t monsters,” barked the opossum. “They’re divine beings.”
“What?”
“Gods. Messengers from the Realm of Perpetual Daylight.”
I stare blankly, unsure of what any of that meant.
“Bah, I don’t have to explain my faith to a filthy bird.”
“No, please,” I say, hopping after him. “I really want to know. What is a God?”
The opossum sighs. “Something bigger than us flesh-beasts. Something better, cleaner, more perfect. Something undying. All-powerful.”
“Like the Claymother?”
“Never heard of her,” says the opossum, selecting a nice spot two-thirds of the way across the road to lay down.
“Of course you have,” I laugh. “Her music is within all of us. It’s what tells us when to eat, when to sleep, where to go.”
The opossum snorted. “That isn’t music. A God’s roar is the only true music. It’s mighty and terrible and… impossible to reproduce. What you describe are the mere desires of us pitiful mortals. We disgusting, filthy mortals- scratching about the dirt for a worm here, a beetle there. Aren’t you ashamed?”
“Ashamed?”
“Well, you’ve seen the Gods, haven’t you? Two eyes of immortal fire, invincible flesh that shimmers without a flaw, and that roar… even you ravens cannot sing so loud. We are an embarrassment by comparison.”
Though I’ve strayed from the Claymother myself, I feel somewhat insulted.
“Well, I wouldn’t say- hmm. So, your conclusion is to let them kill you?”
“Kill my mortal body, yes, but this is the only way for them to take our Light. There is Light within all of us, you see? That “music” you describe within us. It is merely a fragment of Their glory. It must be taken by Them to the Realm of Perpetual Daylight.”
Are you hearing this, Partner? Yes, I see where abandoning the Claymother leads: pure insanity.
“How do you know this Realm exists?”
“How? I’ve seen it. Haven’t you? It’s quite hard to ignore.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Where in the Gods’ name have you been?”
Confronted with this question, I realize I might have been too quick to judge. After all, I am the newcomer. If someone had described these fire-eyed beasts to me this morning I would have assumed they were insane as well.
With my beak lowered I say, “In the mountains. Lived there most of my life. Left only yesterday.”
“Well that explains it,” spat the opossum. “Now leave me alone, I have the gift of immortality to receive. I have grown tired of this revolting body.”
Bewildered into silence, I ascent to the trees.
Before long, another “being” approaches with the brightness and the noise. The Claymother is begging me to look away, but I must resist. I must see what happens; perhaps there will be a bit of light that comes out of his dead body.
Here it comes… the great roar, the two burning eyes.
Wait- there’s only one. Just one eye. This beast is different. It’s squat and narrow with two round legs where the others had four. It’s roar is angry and uneven.
“So long, filthy bird!” The opossum cries as light devours him. It’s too bright and fast to see. I blink.
The light, wind and noise fade away, but my senses are flooded and will take time to adjust to the emptiness of night. I land beside the heap of grey and white fur, dreading the mess that awaits my returning sight.
“Where am I?”
I leap in fright.
“Am I dead?”
There is no blood or guts. The opossum is completely intact.
“You’re alive!” Despite my disappointed curiosity, I am quite relieved, Partner.
“Oh no,” groans the opossum, who had expected to be welcomed into a life of infinite splendor. “Not you.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“I- .” His voice breaks and whiskers twitch. “I think I was denied.”
“Denied?”
“They didn’t take me. Obviously.”
“I think it just didn’t see you,” I say. It’s quite strange that I must console someone for not dying.
“Impossible. The Gods see all.”
“Well… it only had one eye. And two legs. And it was rather small.”
The opossum looks like I had just told him that trees can fly.
“I swear. Didn’t you notice how it sounded different? I think there was something wrong with it.”
“That is impossible,” asserts the opossum. “Gods are perfect. They cannot lose eyes. They cannot lose limbs. And they cannot give birth to runts.”
I must choose these words carefully: “Perhaps there is more to them than you assume.”
“Of course there is; their very nature is unknowable.”
“Yet it’s possible to know more than you expect.”
The opossum sighs. “Okay. You’re a clever raven. I’m so impressed. So what? I’ll wait for the next one.”
“What if you’re wrong about that one too? What if you’re wrong about the whole thing? You’d be dying for a lie!”
“So what? Leave me alone.”
“Look- I once thought the Claymother’s music is all there is. But your Gods and their stone river have proven me wrong. So we are both wrong. And if what you say is true about this entire Realm of Gods, then there is much more we are wrong about. The only way we can learn more is if we live to explore it.”
“You want to enter the Realm of Perpetual Daylight? That’s forbidden.”
I turn my head. “Is it? Let’s find out.”
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