Spontanéité

Winter // snapshot

The winds push past me, giggling, silken fingers and waves of hair and flowing skirts rushing past. Stifling the urge to roll my eyes, I shove past, hands tucked into my worn and frayed undercloak. Villagers part for me as they bump into each other, crowding the narrow alleys, gloved hands holding torches up to the night. They move aside like a flowing river, coming together again behind me.

I continue walking as the crowds thin and the passage grows darker. Here, the torches, clicked into place by old wooden doors of differing sizes, are unlit. From one or two arise smoke, and I can see dying embers in them as I pass.

I stop at the end of the alleyway, where only one torch still burns, and I lean my back against the ice-frozen stone. A ghost of what could be a smile curls my lips.

"Nej, eder-"

"You already promised, jag r-"

"Ja, ja, I know-"

"Mödrar!"

A pause. Inaudible murmurs.

"Ja. Fine. Ja, mödrar." Soft footsteps.

I wait as the door shrieks and is unwillingly yanked open with a groan to release a snow-haired, pale-skinned girl. Her vivid, round blue eyes fixate on me like hard flecks of ice.

"Enjoy listening in, do you?" she asks. Her words have always been abrupt, and now is no exception.

I show my teeth in the barest of grins. "Sorglig."

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Lögnare." I shrug and push myself off the wall, turn and start walking. She falls into step beside me in silence.

Most villagers have vanished behind closed doors, leaving extinguished flames and smoking torches. Like every other night, the alleys are dark and silent.

But tonight it is different.

It is a rare night when the moon unveils her aloof and pale countenance. Rarer still do the gleaming lights accompanying her display themselves in such an array of splendour, but går natt was such a night, and so is tonight.

It may not be so tomorrow.

"How many times have you seen the månad?" Until now, as we reach the outer iskällare, she has been silent.

But I see her round eyes alert and searching, flicking from unlit torch to unlit torch to snow-coated structure after structure. She doesn't expect an answer- and I don't have one to give. I stop in front of one of the tunnels, catching someone's eye.

"Senare," he mouths, and I nod once before continuing.

I glance at my companion. Curiosity lines her angled, sharp features as we cross through the line of menhir encircling the village. The carved stone guardians don't acknowledge us as we pass, their staffs ground into the snow, their heads raised.

I lift my eyes to the night as we press forward, a sigh escaping my lips as one of the winds laughs and runs past, tossing my hair into the air with slender fingers before dancing around my younger companion, her white hair spinning and whirling in the air.