December 11, the night before the full moon WHO: Michael Elder, Cian O'Neill WHAT: A chance meeting WHERE: The edge of town WHEN: Late at night, close to midnight WHY: Why not? RATING: G STATUS: Complete
It was hellaciously cold, the bite of it fierce against his face, his breath a thick white cloud before him. In the depths of his parka and under enough layers of clothes for three people, Michael shivered.
It was worth it, though. Just out of town, facing the vast expanse of snow-encrusted timberland, it was a beautiful sight. The moon, heavy and almost full, was bright enough to send pale blue shadows across the snow. Above him were thousands and thousands of stars, as if someone had casually spilled diamonds across black velvet. And the reason he'd come from his warm apartment arced and shimmered and moved above him like a translucent green river. The Northern Lights.
That alone was enough to make life bearable here. The display was incredible, even with the brightness of the moon. It was never still, constantly changing, washes of colors and shapes, restless and alien-looking. Michael almost thought he could hear a faint crackle or hum, just beyond the range of his hearing, but he wasn't sure. All he did hear was the snow creaking under his boots when he moved, the rustle of his clothing, and his own breath.
Önska flew before him, noticeable only when the moonlight caught his feathers just right. Michael could sense him, of course, and knew where he was, but his eyes had a hard time picking him out from the dark sky around him. So he didn't try, and tipped his face up, watching the ripples and streams of color chase across the sky.