The young girl could remember, early on, the first time she'd ever seen the ancient white bird perched in a tree above her. It seemed to watch her as she romped about outside the den that was her home on the mountainside. Sometimes it would fly from branch to branch to keep a better watch on her. Moonfeather did not mind, she liked the bird and, for that matter, all living creatures. But when Father was playing with her and Israfel one afternoon he spotted the raven as well, and it gave new meaning to her feathered guardian. Father told her the raven's name was Orba, and he seemed to be in disbelief that the bird was still alive after all these years. The rare white raven had been the companion of his mother, the girl's grandmother, for whom she had been named. Moonglow, the first alpha of Spirane and the first shaman of Moladion. Moonfeather was in awe, but she went on about her puppyhood days, playing with her brother and learning from her mother and father.

So it took her a couple of days to realize the bird's absence in the branches above her head each morning when she wandered away from the den. But when her turquoise eyes turned upwards to find solace in the bird's eternal presence, she could not find Orba. Days went by and Moonfeather's heart sank. Had her grandmother's companion decided to move on, or had her spirit left for the next world? The thought that the raven may have passed away made Moonfeather ache with sorrow, despite having known of the corvid's existence for only a short time.

Moonfeather found comfort in the living world around her, and on this particular afternoon she was nestled within a bed of flowers whose blossoms hung above her head as she gazed up into the sunlight of the beautiful summer day. Of course the girl had been careful as she came to lay on her back amongst the flowers, making sure not to bend any of them beneath her weight. A soft sigh slipped through her lips as her eyes drifted shut. Only moments later the flutter of wings caused her eyes to flash open and she tilted her head backwards to see the upside down form of none other than Orba in the grasses beyond the natural bed of flowers. Rolling over with disbelief, Moonfeather scrambled to her paws, subconsciously still careful of the beautiful blossoms as she stepped around them and towards the raven without so much as a petal being displaced. Never before had the raven descended to walk beside the pup, and Moonfeather's heart was close to bursting as it welled with happiness not only to know she was still alive, but that she had decided to trust her enough to come so close.

As the girl took a step closer, the ancient bird pulled back a withered wing, revealing the presence of a second bird. This one was young, and the inky obsidian of its feather contrasted with the faded white of Orba's. The fledgling was not entirely black, no common raven at all. A band of white wrapped around its neck, and Orba preened at the feathers there. Moonfeather's head tilted to the side in wonder, unsure why she had brought this young bird to her. The younger raven croaked shrilly and withdrew from Orba as his elder plucked a white feather from the band around his neck, hopping forward to Moonfeather and placing the plume in the fur just behind her left ear. The pup stood stock still, frozen not with fear but with respect and curiosity. Then, all at once, the ancient companion of the girl's grandmother took wing, flying up and out of the clearing and leaving the pup and fledgling behind.

The pup's hindquarters sank to the earth, her dark gray tail wrapping as best as it could around her at such a young age. "Well then," she said softly to the bird that had begun to preen himself. His head lifted to stare at her. "Shall you be sticking around?" The white necked raven gurgled in reply before going back to preening himself, clearly unable to reach the spot where Orba had taken the feather from him, but busy about it nevertheless. "You'll need a name then, won't you? Whatever shall I call you, friend?" The girl was puzzled by the dilemma, never having had to name someone before. It was only in her nature to be immediately accepting of him, and she already felt a great and true love for the companion who had been bestowed upon her by Orba, and perhaps the very spirit of the wolf whom the white raven had so long been companion to.