This is a story of the people of the Isles, and of the Isles; listen well to it now. Many seasons ago lived Washer Woman with her clan and community, and kept their garments clean and mended for it was the work that she liked to do. Many came to her, with clothes of many hues and weaves, and all knew of the pride she took in her work and respected her.

Washer Woman liked to wake early, to take the clothes down to the river to wash them. She tied them in bundle to her washing stick, and set off in the morning, humming a tune to herself as she walked through the trees of the forest. As she approached the river however, she heard a cry and a clamor, and many voices all speaking at once. Coming to the stream, she found a great meeting of crows, all of them seeming to speak all at once, crying and yelling and screaming until it was quite impossible to hear, or even to think. Washer Woman shook her head in annoyance, and rolled her eyes at the well-known foolishness of the crow clan, and got to work spreading the clothes upon the bank, determined to do her job regardless. The great noise quickly became too much however, and Washer Woman found herself unable to continue. Her annoyance plain on her face, she stood, and called up to the crows, "What is this noise?! Surely none of you can even hear yourselves! Take this elsewhere, so that I might continue my washing."

The crows could not hear her over their own racket, and so she scowled, cross, the din in her ears making thinking difficult. "Stop it!" she cried, louder, but the crows only cawed over her, shouting her down. She tried to listen, to make sense of what had caused such an argument in the first place, but was unable to understand what was being said with so many talking at once. Growing increasingly frustrated, she paced back and forth, back and forth, trying to come up with some way to convince the crows to listen to her. Her gaze then fell on a slender sapling, one in which several of the crows were roosting, and over to it she stomped, her upset growing and growing with the unceasing noise. She threw herself bodily against the trunk, causing the whole tree to shudder, hoping this at last would cause the crows to take notice.

One of the birds above her tilted its head, and she opened her mouth, but before she could say anything the crow's beak flew open. "HOW DARE YOU JOSTLE ME?" they shrieked, and fell upon their neighbor in a fury. At that, the cawing of the crows doubled and re-doubled, and all began to fall upon one another in a frenzy to try to avenge their fellows. Washer Woman stumbled back from the tree, holding her hands to her ears, and was about to give up and leave when the land itself shivered beneath her. Dread filling her bones like the icy water of the seas, Washer Woman knelt, spreading her fingers through the soil. The rumbling of the land came to her then, the rising wrath of the Isles responding to the senseless fighting of the crows. The waters of the river rippled, lapping up the bank to splash across the Woman's feet, and she knew the sadness of the Mysts, the approaching judgement of the lands and waters, and she was filled with fear. Leaping to her feet, she shouted and waved her arms high in the air, calling out. "Crow clan! You must listen! Your fighting has angered the Isles and the Mysts! Stop at once, or we shall all be in danger!"

Lost in their fighting, the crows could not hear her words, could not heed the wisdom in them, and as they fell upon themselves and feathers were plucked and torn asunder, the lands shook more and more angrily. The waters of the river whispered, then grumbled, then roared their displeasure as they sought to overflow their banks, to drown the anger and the fighting of the crows. Great storm clouds began to gather, and the shaking of the land rattled the trees such that even in their fury the crows began to sense that something was amiss. The Washer Woman clung desperately to the sapling, but the rising waves plucked at her, tore at her limbs without remorse, and suddenly a great bolt of lightning came snaking down from the sky, *SSzzSZ-CRACK-THOOM!*, and hurled her into the raging river.

At this the crows, at long last taking notice, flew up in a great cloud into the sky above the waters. "Oh, what have we done?" they lamented, seeing now the great destruction and suffering that their fighting had wrought. "How could we have caused this? How could we have known?" And perhaps they would have merely fallen back into their own misery and guilt had one sharp-eyed bird not spotted the Washer Woman, tossed by the churning waters and nigh to drowning. "Brothers, sisters, look!" they cried, pointing, "oh look, for in our folly it is the Washer Woman who has paid the price! We must rescue her!" At this, the other crows shook themselves from their reverie and swooped low, trying to grab the Washer Woman, but the land shook, and the waters' tumult was too great, and she was whisked away again.

"The storm is too fierce! We have angered the Isles and the Mysts!" another crow cried. "What do we do?"

The first crow flew up to the tallest tree nearby, and spread its wings for attention. "It is we who have angered the Isles and the Mysts! We must calm them quickly, before Washer Woman is drowned!"

"We must sing!" Another crow flew up with the first, bowing, and spread its wings as well. "We must show the Isles and the Mysts that we have stopped our fighting! All of us together!"

And the crow lifted its wings higher, calling out a sweet note into the storm. The others answered, their voices picking up the chant, an old tune of the crow clan, of sun on wings and feasting days. As the song quickened and rose up up up into the storm-tossed skies, the clouds began to flow, faster and faster, before parting in a dazzling gleam of sunlight. It fell upon the waters, still raging below, and the spray broke and scattered it into many shining hues. The crows marveled at this, and one stepped forward, singing of the beauty of Elanna and her Light. As they stepped back, another stepped forward, taking up the melody to praise Aelira's wind-tossed skies. This continued, each crow taking their turn, and as they did the trembling of the land lessened, and the raging tumult of the waters was subdued, until both once again grew still.

Now rejoicing in their song, the crows swept down as one, and just as she reached the end of her strength they plucked Washer Woman from the waters. They deposited her on the bank of the river, their song now turning somber, heavy with sorrow and remorse and apology, and at last drew to a close. The crow who had began it hopped up to Washer Woman, and bowed low.

"Washer Woman, we of the crow clan have forgotten ourselves, and in our foolishness brought ruin and destruction from the Isles and the Mysts, and you were nearly killed." The crow swept out its wings, and the rest of the crows gathered near. "We have wronged you, and the land, and in doing so our law says that you must sit in judgement of us. We apologize for our misdeeds, and seek your forgiveness and your wisdom."

Washer Woman was silent for a long moment, wringing the water from her clothes and casting her gaze down upon the assembled birds. At last, she spoke. "It is true, you have done a great wrong, not only upon the lands, but upon each other, for in your clamor and fighting you have failed to respect one another, and so angered the land." She lifted her gaze, spying her washing stick on the ground some distance away, and nodded solemnly. "This, then, is my decision. Go now, gather up the clothes which lay scattered upon the banks and in the river. Bring me those which have been torn, so I might mend them; you will wash the rest."

The crows all bowed low and did as she had proclaimed, gathering up the clothes from where they had been scattered near and far. Those that had been torn or damaged they brought to Washer Woman, who plucked needle and thread from the pouch where she kept such things and swiftly mended them one by one, setting aside several which had been most damaged. The rest of the crows fell to washing, the work being done swiftly when all the clan worked together.

Once she had fixed all that she could, Washer Woman took those rags she had set aside and tore them into strips. She deftly wove these all together, creating streamers of many hues and patterns, which she tied to her washing stick such that they snapped and unfurled in the gentle winds like the shimmering light of the sun in the spray from the waters of the river. As the crows finished their washing and set the clothes on the bank to dry, Washer Woman once again called them all to her. They gathered in great drifts, eager to heed her words, and she held the stick aloft for them all to see.

"Look now! Tell me, what is the great wrong you have done, crow clan?" Her gaze pierced them all, and they shifted uncomfortably. "It is that you have failed to listen to each other! In denying your brothers and your sisters their voice, you have disrespected them, and thus you angered the Isles and the Mysts. And so, I gift you this, what I shall call the talking stick. Keep it safe and well, and use it thus; only the one of you holding the stick may speak, and they will speak all that they have to say. Then it will pass to the next, and the next, until all have had their turn, and all have been heard. In this way you will be able to listen to others, and remain at peace with yourselves and the Isles."

The crows all bowed low and promised that they would do so. And so they have done, and wherever the peoples of the Isles meet, they craft talking sticks so that they might continue to heed the wisdom of Washer Woman, and listen to one another, and keep themselves and the Isles and Mysts at peace.

And such was the way of it.