The Crows Character Analysis

But the crow could read the old signs, the old stories. They might be hidden, but they had not vanished. Crow was hidden, too, but he was not gone. Crow was awake. Now it would begin.

“This is a secret place, a story place.” The crow tilted its head. “Crow’s people came to this place. Now they are gone. The stories are always. Who tells Crow’s stories now? Where are the dreams when the dreamers are gone? Where are the stories when no one remembers?’ […] Country remembers. Crow remembers.”

Her legs shook; her whole body was racked with shudders. […] She never should have brought Lachie here; she should have protected the secret. Crow’s place.

“Lachie,” she said, with sudden desperation. “Listen, you can’t tell anyone about this place.”

[…] “Okay, mate. It’s your special place, is it? I won’t tell anyone.”

Not my special place, thought Sadie. It belongs to the crows. But she didn’t say it aloud.

“Wah!” The crow reared up angrily, wings outstretched, and Sadie shrank back. “Do you have no Law? When a man is killed, the death must be punished. When precious things are stolen they must be returned. Are you an infant? Do you know nothing? Tell the story; tell Crow what you see!”

“For our people, the land was created long ago, in the time of the Dreaming, when the ancestral spirits moved across the country. They made the hills and the rivers, the swamps and the waterholes. That’s why our spirit ancestors are so important. They make the land, and the land belongs to them, and they make us, too […] round this country, everything belongs to Bunjil the Eaglehawk, or Waa the Crow.”

“The story goes on, as it always goes on. The Law is broken and there is punishment. The dead cannot live again, but what was taken from the clever man must be returned. When the Law is broken the world is broken. The circle must be joined again.”

Sadie knew that she was gazing down at ancient campfires, lit by the people of Crow and Eaglehawk, night after night, generation after generation, millennium upon millennium; that the time of electric lights was only a blink in the long dream of this land’s story. The secret magic of this country lay hidden, buried under buildings and blood; but it had never gone away, and it would never disappear.

But the crow could read the old signs, the old stories. They might be hidden, but they had not vanished. Crow was hidden, too, but he was not gone. Crow was awake. Now it would begin.

“This is a secret place, a story place.” The crow tilted its head. “Crow’s people came to this place. Now they are gone. The stories are always. Who tells Crow’s stories now? Where are the dreams when the dreamers are gone? Where are the stories when no one remembers?’ […] Country remembers. Crow remembers.”

Her legs shook; her whole body was racked with shudders. […] She never should have brought Lachie here; she should have protected the secret. Crow’s place.

“Lachie,” she said, with sudden desperation. “Listen, you can’t tell anyone about this place.”

[…] “Okay, mate. It’s your special place, is it? I won’t tell anyone.”

Not my special place, thought Sadie. It belongs to the crows. But she didn’t say it aloud.

“Wah!” The crow reared up angrily, wings outstretched, and Sadie shrank back. “Do you have no Law? When a man is killed, the death must be punished. When precious things are stolen they must be returned. Are you an infant? Do you know nothing? Tell the story; tell Crow what you see!”

“For our people, the land was created long ago, in the time of the Dreaming, when the ancestral spirits moved across the country. They made the hills and the rivers, the swamps and the waterholes. That’s why our spirit ancestors are so important. They make the land, and the land belongs to them, and they make us, too […] round this country, everything belongs to Bunjil the Eaglehawk, or Waa the Crow.”

“The story goes on, as it always goes on. The Law is broken and there is punishment. The dead cannot live again, but what was taken from the clever man must be returned. When the Law is broken the world is broken. The circle must be joined again.”

Sadie knew that she was gazing down at ancient campfires, lit by the people of Crow and Eaglehawk, night after night, generation after generation, millennium upon millennium; that the time of electric lights was only a blink in the long dream of this land’s story. The secret magic of this country lay hidden, buried under buildings and blood; but it had never gone away, and it would never disappear.