How Raven Stole the Sun

Long, long ago, before your grandmother's grandmother's grandmother was born, the whole world was wrapped in darkness. There was no golden sun to warm the meadows. There were no silver stars to twinkle overhead. There was no pearly moon to light the path home.

The people stumbled and bumped and tripped through the endless night. The salmon couldn't find their rivers. The bears couldn't find their berries. Even the tall cedar trees seemed to shiver in the cold, dark world.

But up in the darkness, flying on silent wings, was Raven. And Raven was very, very clever. He had heard a whisper on the wind — that somewhere, an old chief kept all the light in the world hidden away inside his great wooden longhouse. And Raven began to think up a plan.

Raven flew and flew through the darkness until he found the old chief's longhouse. It sat at the edge of a great river, enormous and grand, carved with beautiful figures of bears and eagles and whales. And from the cracks around the doorway, thin golden beams of light spilled out like tiny rivers of sunshine.

Raven landed on a branch and peered through a gap in the wooden wall. Inside, he could see three beautiful bentwood boxes sitting on a high cedar shelf. One box glowed warm and golden. One shimmered cool and silver. And the smallest one sparkled with a thousand tiny points of light.

"The sun, the moon, and the stars," Raven whispered to himself, ruffling his glossy feathers with excitement. "All locked away where nobody can enjoy them. That simply won't do." But the old chief guarded his treasures carefully, and Raven knew he couldn't just fly in and take them. He needed a truly tricky plan.

Now, the old chief had a daughter — a kind and gentle young woman who walked to the river each morning to fill her cedar water basket. Raven watched her and hatched his cleverest trick yet.

He transformed himself — shrinking, changing, softening — into a tiny hemlock needle, so small you could barely see it. He floated gently down through the darkness and landed right inside her drinking water, so tiny and light she never noticed a thing.

When the daughter took a cool sip of water, she swallowed the little hemlock needle right up. And deep inside, Raven began to change again. Before long, the daughter felt a wonderful surprise growing — she was going to have a baby! And what a remarkable baby it would be.

When the baby was born, the old chief was overjoyed. He had a grandson! The baby had the chubbiest cheeks, the brightest golden eyes, and little tufts of black hair that stuck straight up like feathers. The chief loved him right away.

"What a beautiful child!" the old chief laughed, scooping the baby up in his arms. His heart felt as warm as the sun he kept hidden in his box. He bounced the baby and sang to him and let him play with carved wooden toys.

But Baby Raven — for that's who the little one truly was — wasn't interested in wooden toys. Oh no. Every chance he got, those bright golden eyes looked up, up, up at the three glowing boxes on the high cedar shelf. And Baby Raven began to make a plan of his very own.

One evening, Baby Raven pointed his tiny dimpled hand at the smallest box — the one that sparkled with a thousand tiny lights — and began to cry. Not a little cry. Not a whimper. A great, big, tremendous wail that shook the very walls of the longhouse!

"WAAAAAAH!" cried Baby Raven, and real tears rolled down his round cheeks. "WAAAAAAH!" The old chief tried wooden rattles. He tried dried salmon. He tried funny faces. Nothing worked.

"Oh, my precious grandson," sighed the old chief, who simply could not bear to see his grandbaby cry. "You want to play with the stars? Well... I suppose just for a little while." He lifted down the sparkling box and opened the lid. Baby Raven's tears dried up instantly. He grabbed the glittering stars, giggled with delight — and tossed them right up through the smoke hole in the roof! Up, up, up they scattered across the dark sky, twinkling and spinning into place. The old chief gasped, but Baby Raven just smiled his impish smile.

A few days later, Baby Raven pointed at the silver-glowing box and — you guessed it — began to wail all over again. Even louder this time! "WAAAAAAAAAH!"

The walls trembled. The carved totem figures seemed to cover their ears. The old chief paced back and forth, back and forth. "Not the moon, little one! Please, not the moon!"

But Baby Raven cried and cried until his little face turned red and his tufty black hair shook with every sob. The old chief looked at his daughter. His daughter looked at the old chief. They both sighed the deepest sigh.

"Oh, very well," the chief said softly, bringing down the silver box. The moment he opened it, Baby Raven snatched the glowing silver ball and — WHOOSH — sent it sailing up through the smoke hole! The beautiful round moon floated into the sky and bathed the whole world in soft, silvery light. The old chief sat down heavily. He was beginning to get suspicious.

Now only the golden box remained — the biggest and brightest of all. The box that held the sun. Baby Raven knew the old chief was watching him carefully now, so he waited. He was patient. He played with wooden toys. He ate his mashed berries nicely. He was the very best baby in the whole world — for three whole days.

Then, on the fourth morning, he let out the biggest, loudest, most tremendous cry the world had ever heard! Tears poured like waterfalls! His little feet kicked and drummed!

The old chief tried to be strong. He really did. But his heart was soft as moss, and he loved his grandson so very much. "Just hold it gently," he whispered, placing the warm, golden ball of light into Baby Raven's tiny hands. And the instant he did — POOF! — the baby transformed back into Raven! Glossy black feathers burst out everywhere, strong wings spread wide, and with the sun clutched in his claws, Raven shot up through the smoke hole like a feathered arrow, laughing his raspy raven laugh all the way!

Raven burst out into the sky and flew higher and higher, carrying the blazing sun in his strong claws. With one mighty heave, he threw the sun up into the heavens — and oh! What a glorious sight!

Golden light poured over the mountains and rivers and forests for the very first time. The cedar trees sparkled with dew. The salmon leaped in shining silver rivers. The people came out of their longhouses, blinking and laughing and spinning with their arms spread wide. "Light!" they cried. "Beautiful, wonderful light!"

And back in his longhouse, the old chief watched the sunrise through his doorway. His boxes were empty now, but his heart was full — because the whole world was glowing, and his people were happy. He shook his head and smiled. "That Raven," he chuckled softly. And high above, Raven soared across the brand-new blue sky, his glossy feathers shining in the sunlight, calling out his proud, raspy cry for all the world to hear. The darkness was gone forever, and it was a very good day.