Ravenmail

((Once again, the idiot WordPad program messed up the spacing. -____- Also, yes, I'm aware that this is nowhere near finished, and it's not exactly the best example of my writing... but I figured I might as well post it here. It's not as if anybody reads these, anyway. xD))

Fair skin, shockingly green eyes, electric blue punk styled hair that was streaked with pink. The girl stared at the blank WordPad document on the screen of the computer.
This was how she had wasted the last thirty minutes. How, in the name of the gods, was anybody supposed to write six paragraphs about the medicinal uses of fungi? That was something that old, boring guys with nothing else to do did, not fifteen-year-old high schoolers who could be doing all kinds of more productive things.

And really, six? Why six? The last paper had only been three paragraphs, why on earth did it suddenly become six?

Her beryl gaze wandered over to the Internet Explorer icon on the computer's taskbar, the familiar shape of the blue E almost seeming to call her name. It was then that she realized, somebody was calling her name.

"Renae Amelia Thordottir, please reply."

Eyes darting around her bedroom in search of the speaker, Rennie frantically spun around in the office chair - a bit too fast, as it tipped over and the teenager was thrown to the floor with a grunt.

"Are you injured, Ms. Renae Amelia Thordottir?"

Rennie looked up with a grimace to see a raven, perched on the windowsill of an open window that, before now, had been painted shut for years. The feathered creature was larger than most of its kind, although Rennie wasn't sure if this was because of the level of divine power it contained, or because he simply hatched during a time when ravens were bigger than their modern-day descendants. Its head cocked to one side, it stared at her through beady black eyes and repeated almost mechanically: "Please reply, Ms. Renae Amelia Thordottir."

At the sight of the dark bird, Rennie instantly found the strength to jump up and give a hasty bow, wide-eyed. "S-sorry about that, um, I'll... uh... go get some food or something..."

"The All-Father appreciates your eagerness to care for his dear Muninn and wishes that you will feel free to shower him with more gifts of take-out chinese food. Unfortunately, Muninn has a message for you from the All-Father himself that cannot wait for the take-out delivery car to arrive."

"Lemme see here, where'd that phonebook go..."

"Please listen, Ms. Renae Amelia Thordottir."

The teenager turned to face Odin's messenger once again. Her first encounter with a raven had been before she had had any contact with the gods, and it had not turned out well. However, that raven had been Odin, the All-Father himself in disguise - Muninn was merely his messenger. But still, Ren was wary.

"Okay, what's the message?" she sighed.

Continuing his unblinking stare, Muninn replied. "Muninn has arrived here to inform you that the gods have agreed on a meeting - a meeting of children, a meeting of the children of the gods."

"Uh, what?"

"Yes, four children of each god - with the exception of the All-Knowing Father of Midgard -"

"Hey, can you just call him Odin?"

"Muninn is afraid that Muninn is much older than you, and the court of Asgard will be much less forgiving with him if he refuses to respect the All-Father as he should be."

"Okay, whatever. Continue. I mean, please."

"Four children of each god that currently has four or more half-mortal children will meet on the thirtieth day of the ninth month in the city of Hordaland, in the country that is now called Norway."

Ren merely stood there, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

"Norway!? Hey, I may be a daughter of Thor, but this is Ohio! Norway is, like, millions of miles from here, and I don't know how to make portals yet!" Rennie nearly yelled, momentarily forgetting the demanded respect for a raven, and then apologized.

"Yes, that is correct. And you have misjudged the distance. Hordaland is only 18,448 miles from this city."

"I can't drive, and even if I could, there's kind of a giant ocean between America and Norway."

"Preparations will be made."

"What the heck do I tell my mom? 'Be right back, a talking bird was sent by my granddad to tell me to go to Norway'?"