TGC 08 In which we sleep beneath the stars

That night, my mother made a fire and we sat there on the edge of the water. We ate fish and we were warm. For the first time since we left the house, I wasn’t hungry and I wasn’t cold. We talked, while we ate. We talked about home; we talked about my friends; we even talked about her friends. I thought about telling her about how I’d dreamt of father but I thought it might upset her - so I decided against it.

Instead, I looked out at the water and saw on the other bank – far far away hundreds of specks of light.

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing at the specks of light.

“That-,” she replied with a sigh, “that is Hafen, where we’ll have to find a shipman, who’s willing to take us up the Schwer to Nirvaasan.” She stood then, stretching her arms towards the sky. “Darling,” she smiled down at me stiffly, “I’m going to go for a wander. I won’t go far; I’ll be able to see you all the while. You stay here. Do you understand me?”

I nodded and she stalked away. I watched her go - her movements stiff and rigid. Knowing that she wanted some time alone, I stared up at the stars twinkling in the sky. Such beautiful lights they were, twinkling in the heavens and looking down at us. Such beautiful lights they were. Beautiful lights. Lights. I remembered the light. The light I’d summoned. The light, which my mother insisted hadn’t come from me. Despite myself, I felt angry. I knew in my heart that the light had come from deep within me and my mother refused to believe me.

Gritting my teeth, I placed my hands on the sand and pushed myself up onto my knees. I was going to prove it. I was going to summon the light. I held my hands out in front of me and concentrated – and. And I failed to summon the light. I thought back to how it had happened. I’d heard the hiss of the shlangund. I had screamed. Maybe my scream had summoned the light. Gulping, I turned and looked for my mother. She was nowhere to be seen; I turned back to the lake. Standing up, I balled my small hands into fists and screamed – and. And again I failed to summon the light.

Frustrated, I collapsed back into the sand and stared at the sky – stared at the stars. And as I lay there, staring at the stars my mind drifted up away from me and across the night air. It drifted back into the fogs of my memory to a time, when my father had returned home from the tavern with his friends. They’d made such a ruckus as they staggered through the door. Mother had been furious; she’d tried to send me to bed, but father had lifted me up from my three-legged chair and had carried me out into the night sky. He’d thrown me up into the air and caught me. I can still remember looking up at the stars as I floated up towards them, before inevitably plummeting back down into his waiting arms – floating up and plummeting down – floating up and plummeting down.

It had looked to me then as though a black sheet had been thrown over Ruraux, but a small pixie or some other sprite had flown up and taken bites out of the sheet and through those holes in the black sheet the moon shone. I’d shouted this to my father and he’d roared with laughter as held me close to him and danced his way back into our house. He’d pulled my mother close too– her face still a portrait of fury – and we’d bounced around the kitchen – until she could maintain her anger no longer and joined us dancing around the kitchen, Father singing strange slurred songs all the while, until finally I was tucked into bed – protesting all the while.

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