The River and the Raven

He always said his name was rare but gave no further detail, so that was what they called him. Rare. Some added a mister to it, or señor, herr, meneer, -ông, -san, or yéye. He claimed all rivers were one—the Amazon, Mississippi, Nile, Yantze. Even smaller rivers like this one, so forgettable that it didn’t even have a proper name. The locals simply called it Ilog. The River.

Diwa ran, eyes pinned to the silent, white wings of an owl doing its best to leave her behind. She hadn’t bothered with her slippers, but time and sense had been with her enough to grab her coat. The black fabric did little to protect her from the frigid droplets shaken from the trees.

In celebration of autumn’s end, the sky had thrown a banquet, and Ilog drank more than her fill, engorged and still greedy for crops or fools. Diwa knew better than to approach those banks, but those Rare summoned—via a raven by day or an owl by night—came, no matter what.

As Diwa stopped on the border of land and water, the moon hid behind winter’s clouds. Ilog licked at her bare toes, and the earth drew in her heels. She pulled her coat tighter, peering into the dance of darkness.

She didn’t spot him until he spoke. “Are you the one to solve a riddle for me?”

There upon a narrow raft sat a man shriveled by time, features never the same from moment to moment. Not even his clothes stood immune to the shift of angles—a beggar’s rags, an emperor’s robes, a businessman’s suit, a farmer’s frock.

“That can’t be me, Lolo. I’m terrible at riddles.”

Grandfather Rare glanced at the white owl perched upon his oar. “Ah, but you followed my pet all the way here. Will you say he found the wrong person?”

No, Diwa would never be so rude. She pursed her lips. “Perhaps there is something else you need me for?”

“Perhaps, yet this riddle must be answered first. Will you not even attempt it?”

No, for Ilog devoured fools, and Diwa well knew the tales of those who answered incorrectly.

“Lolo, I will find someone to solve the riddle.” She retreated a pace but stopped as Rare smiled and shook his head.

“Is there no curiosity within you, child? Do you not want the prize, even to know what it is? Do you not crave the adventure?”

Maybe she did, just a little, but to be safe, she put another step between herself and the river. “What is the riddle, Lolo Rare?”

His smile became the crescent moon. “Which direction does the river flow?”

Ilog ran west, but everyone knew that. It wasn’t tricky enough to be the answer to a riddle. Besides, Rare claimed all rivers were one, and not all flowed west.

Yet, all rivers did travel in one direction.

“Down,” she said, lifting her chin. “The river flows down.”

“It does indeed. How clever and brave you are.” Rare gestured to the front of his raft. “Board, child, and be granted your reward.”

Diwa wrapped her coat tighter around herself, one frozen foot scraping at the back of her ankle. “Can’t you hand it to me here?”

Rare laughed. “Even if I could hand you all the sights of the world, they would not be as enjoyable.”

“All the sights of the world?” Diwa gasped. “You mean you’ll take me anywhere? Everywhere?”

“The reward is more than that, should you wish.” Distance entered his eyes, and his hand fell softly atop the owl’s head. “My raven left, and you would fill the role nicely. You have already offered to summon someone for me.”

“But Lolo, how can I be a raven? I don’t even have wings.”

As Diwa settled onto the raft, Rare’s smile rivaled the wide night sky. “You will.”