The Raven and the Reindeer by T. Kingfisher Page B

hillock in the woods with an open doorway in one side. Piled sod on the top had sprouted grass that stuck out in tufts through the snow.  
    Mousebones soared in, with a flirt of wings, and landed on Gerta’s shoulder. It was hard to tell in a raven, but Gerta thought that if he were a human, he would have been embarrassed.
    “This is her,” he said. “The girl who helped my wing. I suppose that oaf who grabbed you must have been about as well, but I didn’t remember him.”  
    Janna’s eyebrows were up so far that they nearly touched her hairline. “Midnight? Is that you?”
    “His name is Mousebones,” said Gerta, trying to follow two conversations at once.  
    “I’m sorry,” said the bird. “And we ravens don’t apologize often, so please make a note of it. She helped my wing so I thought she’d help you. I didn’t think that a human could be kind to a raven and cruel to another human.”  
    “Mousebones ,” said Janna. “Well, she was called Midnight when she came flapping in here with a broken wing, and quite a job I had to set it.”
    “He’s a he,” said Gerta. “I mean—well, he’s very clear that it’s not my business either way, but he says that’s what he’ll be. Because he’s not an it.”
    Janna stared at her.  
    “…um,” said Gerta, who realized that she had just admitted that she heard a raven talk, which meant that Janna either thought she was lying or insane. “I mean…that is…”  
    I have got to stop babbling. I’m flustered, that’s it. Not that anyone wouldn’t be, when they’re made someone else’s prisoner.  
    The tips of her ears were burning now, and she was fairly sure that the blush extended most of the way to her navel.  
    Janna spun on her heel and snapped “Marten! Go do something useful! Make sure we’ve got enough firewood to last the night. It’s going to be an ugly storm.”  
    “But—”
    “ Go.”
    Marten made a long grumbling noise, like an old dog told to move, and plodded off.  
    “Please,” said Gerta, a bit desperately, “I need to get moving before the storm hits.”
    Janna reached out and tucked Gerta’s arm under hers. It was a companionable sort of gesture, and it also prevented Gerta from bolting into the woods. Mousebones fanned his wings to keep his balance.
    “Come with me,” said Janna. “You’re my guest, if you prefer that to prisoner. And you can tell me all about Mousebones.”
    “Um…” said Gerta.
    “And we’ll wait out this storm that is going to land on our heads quite soon, and I will keep Marten from doing anything unpleasant, and we will even feed you. How does that sound?”
    “I don’t want to be any trouble…” said Gerta faintly, aware that any chance of freedom was trickling away. “Please…”
    Janna smiled. Gerta had a dark suspicion that she knew exactly what she was doing. “It’s no trouble at all.”  
    Being polite is all well and good, right up until it’s a trap, thought Gerta dully. She’s going to do whatever she’s going to do whether I’m polite or not.  
    “I suppose I could go for her eyes,” said Mousebones doubtfully. “But she fixed my wing, and that would be poor payment. Um.”
    “It’s all right,” said Gerta, even though it wasn’t. “Just…just stay out of reach, okay?”
    Mousebones took flight and landed atop a nearby branch.
    “Do you think she’ll kill me?” asked Gerta, and flushed again, because Janna was standing right there beside her.
    “I don’t—but of course, you’re asking the bird,” said her captor.   She shook her head and muttered “Why are the pretty ones always crazy?” half under her breath.
      “I don’t know,” said Mousebones. “I thought I did, but I don’t. Ravens know wise things, old things, and humans are a young and foolish race. I don’t know.” His beak gaped open and he made a small fledgling sound of distress.  
      “Come on, then,” said Janna. “Midnight—Mousebones—can come inside as