There are two things you must know about tricksters. First, they are rarely boring, and second, they all get on with one another far better than they would ever let you know.

I suppose you already know this though. And as I study your face, it strikes me that you might not be so innocent as you claim. You were quite insistent on coming here even though I warned you that

You see, it's to their advantage to make you think that they are, for the most part, solitary and separatists. The sort of folk, whether deity, imp, sprite, or man, who understand only their own interests and manipulation of others to advance those interests. And while it's certainly true that they are inclined in such a way, it is far from the truth to suggest that they don't work together when the time comes. And if you think one trickster can make mischief, you can't imagine what they can do when they're on the same side.

But we are both here now to see this great gathering when the tricksters from around the world come together for their own purposes. A gathering which ordinary mortals are barred from except in the most exceptional of circumstances.

Down below, the large pit burns in the center of the room. The flames flare upward, sparks flying, smoke twining. Orange and blue coals pool in the base of the pit, fringed in white ash, so hot I can practically feel it through the orb.

"Now then," I whisper. "You must remain silent. Don't let them know you're here."

You nod. This is one of the most exciting moments in your life I suppose. I'm not sure whether you'll do as you're told. But I've taken all the necessary precautions. I pray they're enough.

The polished teak benches that surround the pit are slowly filled with dark robed figures. Their sizes vary from one who is no more than two feet tall to another who is more than eight feet, maybe ten feet tall (it's so hard to tell). Another seems to have furry dog-like paws. Coyote. I'm almost certain.

Voices murmur in a low drone of hushed conversation. The air smells of secrets and smoke.

Then a large robed figure materializes above the fire pit and levitates to a hollowed out marble stand that appears at the head of the pit. Its great black sleeves trail against the wind. "All business has been attended to, all matters settled –"

"What business?" you whisper. "I didn't see anything."

I shake my head at you, giving a sharp look. Quiet.

The speaker below continues. "So let the tales begin. Bring forth the first offering. Coyote, come."

Coyote moves forward from the third row of benches. He is an unusual being, seeming at once fully human and fully coyote depending on how the firelight strikes him or how I angle my head. I wonder how you see him.

Coyote takes his place at the podium and unveils a violet tome. He thrusts it out above the flames, but it doesn't fall. It spins slowly, a glow developing from within and shooting out beams into the chamber.

"This tale was taken from the mind of Emily, Emily Keys," Coyote begins. His voice is a rumble, half-growl, half-chuckle. "You'll all find this to be quite the pleasure. It is, after all, about our own Crow who sadly cannot be here this night."

"Crow?" one of the robed figures asks. He does not sound amused. It's Set, I think. But he often changes his voice. "Does she know of us?"

You wiggle closer to the edge. I lift a cautioning hand though I understand your curiosity. But this is serious. If you aren't careful, you'll die.

Coyoto chuckles again. His teeth click together. "No. Just a lover of tricksters and a good imagination. Besides, I wouldn't dream of eliminating her until after we've gathered all her stories. So listen." Coyote nods toward the book that is now glowing stronger than before.

The Crow Who Stole Fire by @EmilyLK

Crow tore at the rotting stump with his claws and poked his beak into the hole he created, withdrawing a tasty termite on his tongue. He sucked the grub back and foraged for another.

From a distance, he heard the sounds of humans approaching. No matter how they tried, they never seemed to be able move through the bush as quietly as the animals could. Crow worked another termite free of the wood then winged into the air, coming alight on the twisted branch of an apple gum that shaded a billabong. He took a moment to preen his cloud-white feathers before cocking an eye to the bank below him.

Two women stepped from the scrub, each carrying tall digging sticks and with kangaroo hide bags strapped over their bare backs. They spoke softly to each other, but with Crow's impeccable hearing, he was able to listen to them.

"-Yabbies in the billabong," one of them said, poking at the edge of the bank with her digging stick.

"Should be fat ones," the other replied. She paused momentarily to look back the way they had come. "Let's hope those fellas from Koori don't follow us down here."

Crow hopped further along the branch to peer down at the first woman who had spoken. She found a pleasing spot at the edge of the billabong bank and sat down, pulling off her leather satchel as she did. From within, she withdrew what looked to be a tie of spinifex grass. Part of it had already been worked into a net and she set about completing the task, weaving the strands of grass with practiced fingers. Crow watched her swink for a time before growing bored and returning to his termite stump.

He could still hear the women at their work, and when their voices elevated in delight, he returned to the apple gum to watch them.

"Always snooping about the humans," a droll voice said from above and it took all of Crow's power not to caw in surprise. He tilted his head to eye the eaglehawk perched near the top of the tree above him.

"The same could be said of you, Bunjil," Crow retorted with a flap of his wings. "Are you not perched in the same tree as I, watching the same humans below?"

"Ah, but I am merely resting in this tree," Bunjil said. He tilted his sharp head to the other side to eye Crow. "Soon, I will hunt the possums that come out at night while you will wait here to scavenge the human's tucker."

"There's nothing wrong with having someone else do the hunting," Crow declared. Bunjil simply stared at him. Then he rustled his feathers and spread his wings.

"Careful, Crow," he said as he took flight. "You're starting to sound like a carrion bird."

Crow watched the eaglehawk lift into the sky before giving an indignant clack of his beak and turning to watch the two women below. He didn't care what Bunjil thought. Food was food and the less work he had to do to get it the better.

They had caught a couple of fat yabbies from the billabong and Crow eyed them hungrily. They sat on the grass beside a pile of sticks and wood and Crow contemplated swooping down to steal one of the water bugs. Then one of the women pointed her digging stick at the pile of tinder before her. The wood burst in a flare of heat and light and Crow cawed in shock, almost losing his foothold on the branch.

"Fire." One of the women said the word as if it were a ritual. The other nodded then pushed the yabbies into the hot dirt near the base of the fire.

"Hark," Crow called out to them, unable to hold his tongue any longer. "What is this magic?"

"Hullo, Crow," she said. "This is fire. It cooks our food. Would you like to try some?" She poked the yabbies with a stick then pulled one free of the fire and held it up for Crow. He could see that the heat had changed the colour of the shell. It smelled different too. More juicy.

Still, he hesitated and the woman swung the yabbie tantalisingly between her fingers. "Come now, Crow. It's much better than the bugs and bones you usually have to scavenge for."

"Perhaps this isn't such a good idea, Niree," the other woman said, looking uncomfortable. Niree didn't sway from her path in trying to coax Crow down.

"It's fine, Merekee," Niree assured her. "He's just a bird."

Their blatant discussion about him hardened his resolve. With a soft caw, Crow dropped from his branch and swooped down over the camp, snatching the yabbie from Niree's fingers. He circled back to the apple gum and landed there, hopping along the branch on one foot, the yabbie clutched in the claws of his other. He smashed the water bug against the branch until its shell cracked and white flesh was visible. He stuck his beak into the opening and pulled some of the meat free.

It was warm and juicy and the best thing Crow had ever tasted. He ravished the rest of the yabbie until he had stripped it completely of meat, then he looked back down at Niree and Merekee who were sharing the rest of the yabbies together.

"Hark!" He called to them once more. "Won't you share your fire with me?"

Both women laughed, deep mirthful sounds that travelled through the bush. "Oh no, Crow," Merekee said. "This is our fire. We made it and no other can have it."

"Please," Crow teased, hopping down several branches and cocking his head towards them. "How could I ever go back to eating raw meat and grubs?"

Niree shrugged, popping a hunk of white flesh into her mouth. "You'll just have to, I'm afraid. Our fire is our secret. If we shared it, then everyone would have it, and that would be dangerous."

The two women chose to ignore him then, finishing their tucker and laying down to sleep beside the flames of the fire. Crow watched them for a time. He had to get some of that fire. It was utterly unfair that they wouldn't share it with him. Oh how could he ever go back to shredding cold, bloody meat from animal carcasses when he could have warm, tasty flesh? He had an idea.

Taking flight, he soared over the bushland, his eyes peeled to the ground for signs of who he was searching for. He found it eventually, a long, curved furrow cutting through the sandy base of a roo track. He followed the tracks until he found Snake curled atop a sunny rock.

"Snake," Crow greeted, landing on a branch close by. Snake lifted his head to look at Crow, his forked tongue testing the air between them. "I have a favour to ask."

"A favour?" Snake echoed slowly, his head swaying from side to side. "Lassst time I gave you sssuch a thing, I ended up trapped in a cave until the water rossse high enough to lift me out."

Crow ruffled his white feathers and hopped a few spaces along the branch. "This will be different," he assured Snake. "I promise if you help me in this, I will give you the tastiest meal you've ever eaten. Imagine being warmed from the inside out."

Snake surveyed him for a long moment before finally uncoiling. "I will do thisss for you, Crow, but you better make good on your promissse."

"I will," Crow assured.

"What isss it that you need?"

Crow hopped closer and told Snake of his plan.

***

Crow flapped down into the apple gum and surveyed the two sleeping women. The sun had just risen and it filtered down to the billabong, throwing sparkles of light over the water.

"Hark!" He cawed, startling them both awake. "Do you two like ant larvae?"

"Of course, Crow," Merekee said as she sat up and rubbed her face. "Who doesn't like larvae?"

Crow spread his white wings wide, catching the light of the morning sun in his feathers. "Because you shared your delicious fire-meat with me, I will show you where you can find some juicy larvae not far from here."

The two women looked at each other then Niree shrugged. "Okay, Crow, we'll follow you. Many thanks."

Crow waited impatiently for the women to pack away their camp and collect up their magic digging sticks, then he set off, flying low among the trees so they could follow him.

The ant hill wasn't far from the billabong and Crow had been pleased to find a big one. The clay mound sat on the side of a grassy hill and he heard Merekee and Niree exclaim in delight as they saw it. Good, he thought.

They didn't hesitate in taking to the mound with their digging sticks while Crow found a perch in a eucalyptus tree to watch. Three knocks it took for them to break a hole wide enough in the clay, and from there Snake struck.

He sprung forth and both women screamed. Crow couldn't help but caw with laughter. His time for amusement was short, however, as he watched closely for either Merekee or Niree to drop their magic digging stick.

Merekee ran, but Niree tried to hit at Snake who continued to strike her. Red hot rocks fell from the tip of the digging stick before Niree finally turned and fled after her sister. Crow didn't hesitate. He swooped down from the tree and grasped a leather pouch that one of the women had dropped. With it, he scooped up the coals and winged back into the sky.

"You promisssed!" Snake called angrily after him. Crow didn't have time for Snake – he would make it up to him later – right now, he had to work the fire magic.

He returned to the empty camp by the billabong and deposited the coals into the empty fireplace. Now what else had Merekee and Niree done? Ah yes. Crow hopped around the clearing, collecting sticks, leaves and branches. He tossed them over the coals and waited. Nothing happened. He cawed impatiently.

A light breeze rustled the leaves and swayed the grass of the clearing. As Crow watched, the wind touched the coals and made them flare red. He hopped excitedly and blew on the rocks. Small sparks flicked from them, catching the sticks and the leaves. Small flames licked upwards and Crow cawed exuberantly. Now he just needed to find some meat to put on it.

"Hello, Crow," Bunjil said from above. Crow looked up to find the eaglehawk perched in the apple gum, a large rodent clutched in his talons. "If you cook my possum, I will share it with you."

"Hark! Put it on the flames then!"

Bunjil swooped down, his wingspan immense, and dropped the possum in the fire. Sparked exploded upwards and both Crow and Bunjil watched in fascination as the fur burned off the rodent, exposing its flesh.

When the meat smelled sweet and clear juices leaked from it, Crow used a branch to flick the possum free of the fire. Both birds attacked at once, tearing the tender, warm flesh from the bone with claws and beak.

When they were fully sated, Crow collected some of the hot coals into his leather pouch and bid Bunjil farewell.

"Who would have thought," Bunjil said as the two birds winged into the air, "that one day your silly tricks would pay off."

"All in a day's swinking," Crow replied. Then they separated, Bunjil heading towards the great plains where he would wheel in the sky for hours looking for small animals to kill. Crow stayed close to the forest, looking for bandicoots and insects.

Each night, Crow would use his hot coals to light a fire, and each night he ate until his stomach was fit to burst. Sometimes, other animals would join him and they would feast together. It wasn't long, however, before some of the humans heard of his magical fire.

They came one day – a whole tribe of them – and demanded that Crow give his fire to them. He refused, hastily attempting to scrape his hot coals into his pouch. Bunjil, who had been dining with him, winged up into a tree and out of reach. The men became angry and tried to grab Crow's pouch.

The hot coals spilled out again and into the dry grass. Within moments the whole clearing was ablaze. The men ran, as did any other animals in the vicinity. In a panic, Crow tried to get away, but the bushland was ablaze and his sight was blinded by the smoke. He coughed, wheeling wildly and calling for help. The flames roared up beneath him, capturing him by his feathers and pulling him downwards. He screamed and flapped in vain.

The bush was alight and the fire burned unchecked over the countryside. Animals fled, seeking shelter in burrows and billabongs. Human dwellings were caught in the flames, reduced to nothing but ash. Not all survived.

Finally a thunderstorm came and doused the land in rain. The fire lessened, flickered and finally died out. Animals emerged from their hiding places and picked across the blackened land. There was nothing left save ashen dirt to walk on and charcoal trees to perch in.

Bunjil swooped down to land on a branch of the once shady apple gum. He looked down into the clearing where the fire had started and despaired for his friend Crow. The bird may have been a trickster, and cunning beyond all others, but he didn't deserve this fate.

Something stirred in the ash below and Bunjil cocked his head to look at it with one sharp eye. Perhaps a rodent had survived the fire. He was hungry.

Beady yellow eyes opened and black wings extended. A bird stood, tottering on unsteady claws towards the billabong. He splashed into the shallows, gulping down water.

"Crow?" Bunjil said incredulously. He swooped down to land on the bank of the billabong. Crow was splashing his now black feathers in the water.

"Hark," said Crow when he saw the eaglehawk. "What has happened to my beautiful white feathers! They've been turned black by that cursed fire!"

"A lesson, I think," Bunjil said wisely, ignoring the withering look that Crow gave him. "It is wrong to take what isn't yours, even by cunning trickery."

"Hark," Crow lamented, holding his wing out in front to survey the damage. His beautiful white wings, gone! "I think you are right Bunjil. I was wrong to steal the fire." He sighed wistfully and hopped out of the water. "But that meat was so delicious not to! Do you think we could find any possums burned in the bushfire? They may yet be still warm!"

Bunjil shook his head. Crow hadn't learned his lesson at all. Still, he spread his wings - tipped now in brown as he'd narrowly escaped the fire – and winged into the air. "I will look west," he told Crow, "then I will meet you back here for dinner."

"Hark!" Agreed Crow. "Perhaps I'll find some still warm coals!"

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The Crow who Stole Fire is an Australian Aboriginal dreamtime story. The Crow is the trickster in Australian mythology and has many a tale with Bunjil the eaglehawk. This retelling depicts how Crow's feathers became black after he stole fire from two women by tricking them.