The click as she hung up was a relief. For a moment he stared at the blank television screen. Then he heaved himself up with a sigh to go get his laundry out of the dryer. It was all stuck together with static,and as he sat on the couch and peeled it apart, he remembered the shiver up his back, and wondered how a patrol cop was going to get hold of the notes on a 1935 murder in New Orleans.

Raven, the hunter,

Was content to stay and poach,

Owl wished to go back home,

And I, to find the coach.

"RAVEN, OWL, AND I"

Raymond had seen three airplanes this morning, and nineteen birds. It was now four thousand, six hundred and twelve days since he had seen his brother,the Raven, and as for his older brother, he had lost count some time ago, much to his regret. Another bird went by overhead. Twenty. He unwrapped his tambourine from the old towels that protected it from the elements, and idly tapped it a few times.

Raymond looked nothing like an Indian. His face was swarthy, but not in the same way. His cheekbones were high, but his forehead was all wrong. His eyes had just a hint of slant. But still, tourists thought he was an Indian, and so paid him well to guide them through the Rockies, near Boulder. It was just as well.He knew the land. He spent most nights huddled in the ruins of the old "castle" on Mount Falcon, overlooking Red Rocks. He could find the best hiking, rock climbing, and sight seeing. The authorities for the most part ignored him.

It was full dark, and the stars were out in all their glory, the Pleiades as clear as spring water, looking like he could touch them. Four chipmunks gathered near his small fire. He held out nine pieces of bread for them to nibble from his hand. He couldn't always tell them apart, but two of these he recognized. One was a small, old female he called Brandy, and the other a very dark, large male whom he had named Fleetwood, after a Cadillac he had owned many years before. FIeetwood took the bread and said, "The Raven is flying. It is time for the Owl to do the same."

Raymond studied the chipmunk, surprised at how calm he felt to be addressed by the animal; it was almost as if he'd been waiting for something like this,and perhaps he had been. He said, "It is years since I've seen the Raven, or the Dove for that matter."

"It is time to see them both," said Fleetwood.

"Where?" said Raymond.

"That I cannot tell you."

Brandy spoke in a high, clear tenor. "The road will tell you. It is only for you to set foot upon it."

Raymond nodded. "If it is time for me to find my brothers, then find them I will. But what is our task to be?"

"I cannot tell you that, either."

"Will there be a way home again?"

"That will depend," said Fleetwood, "on whether the Coachman is loyal."

"You mean sober."

"Well, yes."

"And on whether your brothers are loyal, as well,"said Brandy.

"That's clear enough," said Raymond. "I'll set out in the morning."

The chipmunks nodded, and accepted more bread,and spoke no more to the gypsy guide who looked nothing like an Indian.

She can find your secret madness,

She knows your secret name.

What demons do you hide, my friend?

What creatures lurk inside, my friend?

To her, you know, it's really all the same.

"THE FAIR LADY"

"I stole it," Laurie said boastfully. Or tried to. The words didn't come out quite right, and she wondered if Chrissy could hear they weren't quite true. Laurie had gone to the stupid rummage sale at the youth center yesterday evening after Chrissy had stood her up to go downtown with that Sue and her friends.Now she wanted to make Chrissy feel as if she'd really missed out on something; not just Laurie finding the black sort-of-tapestry cloth that now covered her bed, but the adventure of Laurie stealing it.

And Laurie really had intended to steal it. She'd wrapped it up in the two dollar silky bathrobe she was going to pay for and stuffed it in her shopping bag with the old books Jeffrey wanted and the sweater she thought her Mom would like. The tapestry with the weird old square-footed animals on it was marked twelve dollars, and she wanted it but couldn't afford it. So she decided to steal it. All the way up to the cashier she'd justified it, thinking this rummage sale was supposed to raise money for the youth center,and all the stuff was donated anyway, so it wasn't like they were really losing money when she took it.But then the lady at the counter had just said, "It's all three dollars a bag after five o'clock," and had taken her money. Six months ago, she would have told Chrissy the whole story, and they'd have laughed about it. Now she just wanted Chrissy to believe that she had stolen it.

But Chrissy only stared at it for a minute. She didn't even seem to notice that all Laurie's dolls and stuffed animals had been packed away, or that there were candles and incense set out on her dresser or the way she'd hung towels over her curtains to make the room dimmer. Chrissy's eyes got that apprehensive look they sometimes got lately as she stared at the tapestry spread. "Looks like something of Hers," Chrissy said in a whispery voice, and then giggled in a funny way. Like she'd meant to whimper and giggled instead.

"What?" Laurie demanded, feeling stupid. Again. Lately she always felt stupid, or left out when she was around Chrissy. It was the same way she and Chrissy had felt when they were in the bathroom at school and some of the popular girls came in and started talking about boys and makeup. Only this was worse, because it was Chrissy making her feel like there was something big and important going on, and she was too much of a kid to understand it. If Chrissy grew up and left her behind, then she'd really be alone.

"Those things, there. Like lions only sort of square.She's got a thing like that. Except it talks. And it looks even weirder than those things do." Chrissy's voice trailed off and she continued to stare at the bedspread.

"Who has an animal like that?"

For a long time, Chrissy didn't answer. And when she did, it was in an odd, breathy voice, and she didn't close her mouth between the sentences. "The Fair Lady. Sue finally took me to see Her. She lives,well, in a place like an elevator stuck between floors,only it's a whole world. So the floor is blue, like a sky under your feet, only cold and hard. But sometimes it seems like you're standing in it, instead of on it.And the ceiling is like rocks and dirt and roots hanging down. Only not natural, not uneven like in a cave,but all polished, like someone made it that way. It's like columns in some old temple or something. And the walls are like-I don't know, banks of stone, with these fossils in them, only the walls aren't always in the same places. There was this window, only Sue said maybe it was only a painting, because it looked out but only into the sky, and all you could see from it was half a sun and half a moon. Sue said it was only a painting, but when Sue wasn't watching, I saw Her throw the skinned kitten out of it. It looked so much littler without fur." Her eyes grew even more unfocused. "It was like that man said, that gypsy guy. There wasn't much left when She was through with it." Chrissy's face went a shade paler, and she talked faster. "It's always warm there, even hot, but She has all these fireplaces, and some of the fireplaces have chimneys that go down instead of up. And She has these… things. Like people made of animal parts… or something."