Even if it weren’t bad for the raven, National Forest rules prohibited it. She supposed the little guy was hoping for a handout, but she knew better than to feed wildlife. Oh, this would have been the perfect shot. It hopped down the branch and cawed again, moving a bit closer. The bird cocked its head at her, its feathers gleaming blue-black in the twilight. She had watched them fly over the fields of the farm where she’d grown up, watched them tumble in the wind, watched them defy Peter’s attempts to keep them out of his corn, and she had envied them. For her, ravens were a symbol of freedom. Only later, after she’d had time to think about it, had the answer come to her. She’d mumbled something about ravens being intelligent and playful. She used ravens in her jewelry more than any other creature, and when a client had asked her why, she hadn’t had an answer. Naomi wished she had her camera within reach. It had taken her five long years of waiting tables and making jewelry on the side to keep that promise, but here she was-not in a cheap hotel room, but camping on National Forest land with her own gear.Ī big raven landed on a pine branch across from her and gave a throaty caw. She’d first come to Denver for a silversmithing workshop, had seen the mountains through the dirty window of her cheap hotel room, and had promised herself she’d come back to visit those mountains one day when she could afford it. How long had she dreamed of this vacation?

She sat back in her camp chair and inhaled, the soft crackling of the fire and the mingled scents of smoke, pine, and fresh mountain air bringing a sense of peace. Although it was July, there were still patches of snow on the high peaks, their summits bright in the waning light.

The sun had set behind the mountains a few minutes ago, its last rays stretching pink across the sky.

Naomi Archer put another log on the fire, the blaze offering warmth against the evening chill.

Tempting Fate by Pamela Clare