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Today, everything hurt. Her chest hurt for all the heaving her breath had done, her throat cracked for all of her coughing, her head ached as it bobbed back and forth, and her back and legs were sore from laying down all day. She could not even try to distract herself with thought, for the pain dominated all of her attention. Though this all encompassing hurt was not rare, she had wished it had not come this day. If she had looked and felt better, maybe she could have convinced her parents to let her out. It was a pitiful hope, but one she clung onto with all of her might.

Today, she turned eighteen, or so she thought. By now, time was a guessing game, and only by making small nicks with her nails onto her bedpost could she tell how much had elapsed. Her parents did not allow her the company of a clock or calendar, saying she didn't need such 'frivolities'. What did time matter to someone so ill? But she felt so sure that today was her birthday, and that she was eighteen years old, the time for a girl to turn into a young lady. She had planned days in advance to beg her parents to let her out on her birthday, but her illness had other plans, and so here she laid, wracked with fever and coughs and pains. Normally she would just have the coughs, the ones that rattled her bones and had blood escape her mouth, but today was a mixture of the worst sorts.

The only relief for now was the cool wind softly blowing from her singular window, and the little bird that perched upon the windowsill. She turned in bed, though it was suffering to do so, and smiled to see her small companion. There stood a raven, clean and beautiful, with the darkest of black feathers and the deepest red for eyes. He ruffled his feathers, before staring at her, head cocked. "Good morning." The girl called out towards him, her voice crackling with her illness. "And how are you today?"

Of course he said nothing, but bobbed his head the slightest. A noise from the door caused him to arch his wingers, however, and the girl quickly looked toward the door, the only one in the room. Was it time for breakfast already? It opened wide, and in the doorway stood her mother, ever so tall and intimidating, holding a single gray tray in her hands. She was already impeccable dressed, make-up routinely covering her face, and her hair tied up tight enough to stretch her skin. "Good morning, Minerva." The tone was formal, plain, and routine, that this morning really was no different than any other in the past.

"Good morning, mother." Minerva pushed herself to sit up to address her properly. "Do you know what today is?" Though her body shook and sweat from the illness, maybe she still had a chance.

"Monday." Was all that was said, as she came to Minerva's bedside, setting the tray down on the bedsheets. It was always the same meal, a bowl of thick pea soup, a glass of water, and a purple bottle filled with her horrid medicine.

"It's my birthday." Minerva smiled, gesturing to the scratches made on the bed-post. "See? I'm a - "

"What is that horrid thing doing inside again?!" Mother suddenly screeched, storming away from the bed. "Out, out, you disgusting little wretch!" Her fury was directed towards the raven, shaking a hand at him to try and drive him away. The raven hopped off the windowsill, and flew off into the distance, and once he was gone, she slammed down the window hard enough for it to shake. "Honestly, Minerva! Those things carry all kinds of diseases, and yet you keep letting it inside!"

Her smile faltered, as this day was getting to an even worse start than before. "But, mother… he's my pet."

"A crow is not a pet." Mother kneeled down; making sure the bird hadn't left any droppings on the old wooden floor.

"He's a raven, not a crow." Minerva took a spoon from the tray, and distractedly stirred her green meal. "He's been coming here for years, and keeping me company… and he doesn't have any diseases. Even if he did, I'm already sick." But she figured arguing would do her no good, with her throat aching and her mother being stubborn about this certain subject. It was better to stick to the goal. "As I was saying… it's my birthday today."

Mother found nothing dirty left behind the bird, so she stood straight up, smoothing down her dress and regaining her calm disposition. "I suppose it could be. Take your medicine."

Minerva uncapped the bottle, and reluctantly began to pour the awful smelling concoction onto her spoon. "And since it's my eighteen birthday, I was wondering…"

"Take your medicine." Mother repeated, firmer, taking one more glance to the window before walking to the door.

"Mother, wait, please!" The little one cried out, but it was too late – the door was slammed shut, and the little click of the outside lock followed. She could hear her footsteps echo off down the hallway, and the chance was gone. Defeated, she stuck the spoon in her mouth, and grimaced as the nasty brew made its way down her throbbing throat. For something her parents called medicine, it never seemed to do any good. She shoved the entire tray aside, and laid back in bed, letting her stomach fight with the purple gunk. Despite being her birthday, everything had already gone as any other day would.

She slept, on and off, drifting in and out, as she spent most of her days. Her appetite made no appearance, and she couldn't bring herself to read the few books she had on her dilapidated shelf. But mercy came upon her by lunchtime, as the pain to move had diminished greatly, and she wondered if she'd had another chance when her father came along. She sat up once more, waiting for him, and she even held her breath when she heard his footsteps approach. The door opened again.

Her father was much the same as her mother – tall, intimidating, the best in clothing and appearance, and carrying a tray for her next meal. Before he could say a thing, Minerva quickly spoke, hoping to achieve victory. "Father, it's my birthday!"

However, his eyes rested on the tray for breakfast instead of on her, and his eyes narrowed in a fast anger. "You didn't eat your breakfast." It was true, the soup had gone untouched, and was probably as cold as ice by now.

She couldn't believe her bad luck, as her voice hesitated, her body shrinking back to her sheets. "Oh, well, um, I wasn't, that hungry, but - "

"What is the point of working to feed you if you won't even touch what we make you!" He slammed the tray down on her desk drawer, causing the soup and water from it to spill. "You should be grateful to have three meals a day! There are people starving around the world, but you choose to be picky!"

"I'm sorry." She curled up in her bedsheets, not meeting his eyes. There went the last of her attempts to make any birthday wishes, she certainly wasn't going to gain any favors today. "I'll eat it…"

"Of course you will, and I don't want to see a single drop left over!" He released the hold on the tray as the soup and water continued to spill over the drawer, his back to her as he headed for the door. "And clean up this mess!" The one he had created by his own anger, naturally, but to argue it was moot, and the door was already slammed shut, and he was already gone.

The medicine was taken, the soups were eaten, the waters were drunk, and the mess was cleaned. What else was there to do, really? She assumed she was being punished as the sun began to set outside and no dinner was brought to her, but on the plus side, she could let in her pet raven once more. With the 'chores' done, she came out of bed, feeling well enough to move around, and opened the window. In mere seconds, the raven was at the windowsill, and she gave him a small kiss on the top of its head. He returned an affectionate nuzzle to her, and the two went to her bed. She laid down, and he perched upon her bed post.

"It was worth a try." She sighed to him, and took a pillow into her arms, hugging it close. "And, you know, I had it planned out. I knew exactly where I was going to go if they let me out." The raven cocked his head, questioning, and she lifted her head towards him as she answered. "You want to know where? Silly, you should know… it's where we first met. I would have gone to grandpa's." She then began to count the scratches on the bed post, until she was sure. "Ten years ago… I think. That's the last time I saw grandpa. I miss him so much."

She closed her eyes, and did her best to recall those sunny days. "He called me Minnie. I really like that… it sounds so much better, than Minerva, don't you think? And he would pick me up and put me on his shoulders, and he'd let me ride him all throughout his garden. You remember, right? Because I saw you in his garden that day." Her eyes opened, to focus on the raven. "Grandpa put me down so I could see you, and you just flew up to me… and grandpa called me a princess, and he said princesses were friends with all animals."

Then she shoved the pillow aside, bitterness fighting its way into her emotions. "…But then mother and father said I was getting too sick to come see him anymore. Then they said I was too sick to see anyone… do anything… and so what! I'd rather die outside than be sick in here a million years!" The pillow was kicked off the bed, and she pouted, twisting her frilly white nightgown in her hands. "I just want to be able to go outside! Is that too much to ask?"

The raven, naturally, did not respond. He stared at her for a few moments longer, but then, suddenly, jerked his head aside, looking right at the window.

Minnie's rant was paused, as she caught the look. "What? Is something wrong?" The raven just continued to stare, and curiosity overwhelmed her frustrations for now. She slipped out of bed, and came to the window, and assumed she was looking at what he was staring at. From her second-story window and looking down to the streets, she saw a black, horse-drawn carriage. Horse-drawn carriages weren't inherently strange, but this night – for now, it was night, she hadn't even remembered to watch the sunset as she normally did – it was the only one out on the street. The entire road was deserted, save for this black carriage. It was right in front of her house, and stayed absolutely still.

"I wonder who it belongs to." She wondered out loud, but supposed it wouldn't have done her any good to know, as she didn't know a single soul in the town. Sure, she watched the people in the day, going to and from their jobs and schools, but she didn't know any of them. So she leaned on the windowsill, waiting for whoever it was to leave the carriage so she could get a better look at them. "How strange." She also noted. "There's no rider." There were horses, blackest ebony, the same color as the otherwise undecorated carriage, but there was no rider to lead them.

She couldn't see any details of the carriage from this height, but the blackness of it reminded her of nights without stars, of looming shadows. She waited for the person inside to come out, pondering if they would be as black as this carriage and the horses.

And she waited.

And she waited.

And she waited.

Sleep threatened her eyes, but she did not falter. She was determined to see this through, and stood firmly in place. Any minute now, they would come out. Every so often, her body would have an attack, coughing hard, violent, and her palms were splattered with red, but it was such a sadly common occurrence that she really paid it no mind.

And she waited.

And she waited.

And she waited.

Before she knew it, the sun was beginning to rise, and she would normally have watched that as well, but there more important matters to attend to. The entire night had passed without the carriage moving a single solitary inch, but as the soon began to kiss the land, the horses were now beginning to trot quietly ahead. To her disbelief, the carriage was riding off without having ever made known who was inside. She leaned forward, trying to see it better, but the carriage was already turning around a block, and was gone.

"Well!" She exclaimed and yawned at the same time, stretching her arms up high. "What a strange thing! Why didn't they come out?" Not expecting any answers from her friend, she flopped back onto the bed, sighing. At least it had provided momentary excitement, a rare disturbance in her otherwise routine life. She closed her eyes, and after a few more hard coughs, allowed her body to sleep again.

~*~

Her birthday had passed, and so did more days. But something odd had begun. Every night, for three straight nights now, the carriage would come to her home, wait, and leave with the sun. Minnie would wait at the window for the slightest glimpse of whoever was inside, but there was never the faintest hint. Since her only source of outside knowledge was her parents, she decided to ask them about it. However, they did not aide in her quest.

"We would have heard a carriage outside." Mother had said. "You must have dreamed it up."

"Every carriage needs a rider." Father had said. "Or else the horses wouldn't know what to do. You're making things up."

But she knew what she saw, and what she continued to see as the nights continued onward. If her parents wouldn't help her and if the person inside the carriage wouldn't come out on their own, then there was only one thing left to do.

Minnie would just have to go to the carriage herself.

End Of Chapter One.