Title: Three Dark Ravens
Rating: K+
Summary: The very unfortunate orphans prepare to leave the island. Takes place before Book the Fourteenth, after the villagers board the outrigger canoe. Oneshot.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except for the ravens. And the idea ; )
Three Dark Ravens
Caw, caw, caw...
Klaus wiped his brow and looked up. Three dark ravens flew near the sun, circling lower and lower. How very cliche. But in this case, in was true. He went back to work, repairing Count Olaf's boat via the instructions Violet had given him. It must have been a nice, shiny, boat at some time. Violet had pored over it for days, examining the parts of the engine mechanisms. Finally, she spent night and day drawing diagrams on scraps she had retrieved from the pile of junk in the fields. Klaus sighed. Violet was working her ass off trying to get them off this island.
Because of their parents.
Their parents, who were dead.
Their parents, who had left a diary, and nothing else...
Nothing else, not even a will.
Caw, caw, caw...
Sunny worked furiously under the billowing, white tent, cutting up seaweeds with various sharp knives. She then pinched spices over the fish Klaus had caught from the ocean, setting them into the glowing sun to dry. The baby wandered around her feet, knocking over various spices and gnawing on the egg beater. In spite of herself, Sunny smiled, baring the baby teeth; as sharp as they were, they couldn't compare to the ones from almost a year ago. Wanly grinding more spices, she run her tongue over a newly developed set of molars. There was no need to chew, to grind, to bite.
Somehow that made Sunny feel as if she was growing up too fast.
Especially when she glanced fondly down at the baby.
A small hard triangle of bone had started sprouting from Beatrice's tender gums.
Caw, caw, caw...
Violet unrolled another blueprint, setting a small stone on the ends to keep the paper to unfurl. She studied her own neat, all- caps printing with a scrutinizing eye. Something was missing. Something important. The ravens, insistent and restless, circled lower and lower. Violet wondered if they were searching for water, land, for food.
Good luck here.
The barren, sandy island provided very few resources if one did not have the use of thumbs. Sunny was under a tent boiling the seawater, making food, she knew, but the ravens kept stubbornly circling the space over the white material. Violet thought briefly if it might be possible to shoo the birds away. The pots and pans were currently resting over the fire, supporting the fish Klaus had caught. So, a loud noise was practically impossible. She reached into her pocket for the faithful ribbon.
Feeling the familiar material, she whipped up her hair and tied the ribbon around it. She felt the ribbon pull as she yanked it around the ponytail, then give slack. It slipped out of her hands and fluttered to the warm, dry sand. An evident tear reminded Violet of the fact they had not yet found sewing needles in the arboretum yet. The two pieces floated on top of each other, riding a breeze to the wide ocean.
Caw, caw caw...
Violet looked up.
The ravens had landed.