A little boy labored up a mossy hill, stumbling and sliding on the slate. The raven who went with him did not labor, but hopped and flew and called out encouragement and insults to the boy. “Take us to your tucker! Button up some grub!” he called. The boy heard him very well, but did not say a word. He only climbed more quickly and more sweatily, until he reached the little path to the top, where a green sod roof covered a dark dripping cave, a little blossoming tree beckoned, and a pool of clear water reflected the sky.

An old woman came out of the cave, and tilted her head to hear what came her way. She had long twisting hair like seaweed, fingers twisted like driftwood, and she was blind. She heard the footsteps of the little boy, and heard them stop before her. He was small, and thin, with brown hair and solemn hazel eyes, but she could not see him. She would have given him food if he had asked, but he could not ask her.

“Who’s there?” called the old woman, and the raven cocked his head at her.

“I’m a devil!” he cordially replied.

The old woman considered this, and tentatively put out her hand toward where the footsteps had stopped. She ruffled the hair. “You are a very small sort of devil,” she said, stepping back again.

The raven hopped on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m a devil!” he insisted.

The old woman had long been thought a witch, but had never had the opportunity. “You’re a devil?”

“I’m a devil!”

“Can you fly?” said the old woman, and the raven circled in the air above her head.

“I’m a devil!” he reiterated (as if she should have known that all devils could fly.)

“Can you make it rain?” said the old woman, and the little boy cupped his hands in the pool and threw the water up in the air to plunge down upon the old woman.

“Can you make it snow?” The little boy tore the wind-chilled petals from the fruit tree, and the old woman smiled as they kissed her face.

“Can you make fire?” asked the old woman, and the little boy struck his flint and steel and kindled a small fire to warm them.

“I think, on the whole,” said the old woman, “you are my kind of devil. What will you require of me for your services?”

“Take us to your tucker! Button up some grub!” exclaimed the raven, and the old woman nodded.

“That seems quite fair,” she said, and ruffled the boy’s head again with a smile, “after all, you are a very small devil.”