the darkness falls around me at night
As they begin to move, I do too, as quietly as I can, my boots crunching only just barely underfoot. I’m not as graceful as the others in my life—not even close—but I watch where I step, press my weight into the balls of my feet like my mom taught me, and try to be smaller than I am.
Then I see them. A cluster of void-luxere. Just reindeer, technically, or they were. My breath sticks in my throat regardless—luxere aren’t huge, but they’re big enough, and there’s more at a time than I’d hoped.
And those antlers? Probably not something my short daggers are going to just politely move aside.
The cold had already soaked through to the bone, but this is different—it’s a frost that sinks into my ribs, coils in my stomach, a creeping what if I can’t do this sort of cold. My parents did a really good job keeping me far from things like this. Beasts. Magic fights. Fights at all—unless you count the occasional childhood brawl. They’d wanted to keep me safe.
I breathe slow. Push down the nerves. I won’t be the first person in my family to walk into a bad idea with a knife and a rigid spine of stubborn optimism.
I shift into view just enough so that the large man with the unicorn can see me just fine, in case it matters where I am. I don’t wave or speak. Just meet his eyes, then shift my weight like I know what I’m doing.
Knives in hand, I mimic the stance of one of the hunters nearby—crouched low, ready to move. I probably look like a weirdly focused chipmunk compared to them, but hey. If I can just find the right opening, I’ll be useful.
Assuming I don’t get gored first.
Then I see them. A cluster of void-luxere. Just reindeer, technically, or they were. My breath sticks in my throat regardless—luxere aren’t huge, but they’re big enough, and there’s more at a time than I’d hoped.
And those antlers? Probably not something my short daggers are going to just politely move aside.
The cold had already soaked through to the bone, but this is different—it’s a frost that sinks into my ribs, coils in my stomach, a creeping what if I can’t do this sort of cold. My parents did a really good job keeping me far from things like this. Beasts. Magic fights. Fights at all—unless you count the occasional childhood brawl. They’d wanted to keep me safe.
I breathe slow. Push down the nerves. I won’t be the first person in my family to walk into a bad idea with a knife and a rigid spine of stubborn optimism.
I shift into view just enough so that the large man with the unicorn can see me just fine, in case it matters where I am. I don’t wave or speak. Just meet his eyes, then shift my weight like I know what I’m doing.
Knives in hand, I mimic the stance of one of the hunters nearby—crouched low, ready to move. I probably look like a weirdly focused chipmunk compared to them, but hey. If I can just find the right opening, I’ll be useful.
Assuming I don’t get gored first.
Theea
and covers me in silence so bright
