Cecilie

Cecilie

Cecilie smiled when she saw the glow of blue light. It would compliment her pink hair.

At the end of August, already autumn, a river of stars lit the snow frosted peaks and the fading purple behind them. Soon it would start getting cold. In three months the lights would go out and she'd be able to move about freely all day long.

She loved the coming Season of Darkness, the two months of night. Moonlight made her hair shimmer and the stars were her very best friends.

She directed her horse towards the beckoning blue.

At a safe distance she dismounted and continued alone on foot. The fur on her feet deadened all sound of her passage.

It was a strange object, glowing from within. She had heard of them. A cave fashioned out of very thin fur. She preferred a crevice in solid stone. She just put a hide over her when she slept to keep herself dry. In the Season of No Night, she had a favorite hidey-hole that the sneaky light and sneakier people never entered, where she could nap for two months.

People. They were strange, they were.

Whooping and hollering! Cecilie could barely hear Aurora1 when they hung around. Her tinkling song was a lullaby to those who shut up long enough to look up and see the crescendo of color, the melody in the movement of ions. Word was that people were deaf to her siren call.2

The starry skies called her to her celestial home. How long ago had she been cast out and shunned?

She crept closer.

She heard noises, stopped, listened closely. Ah, they were asleep. They snored. She kept her guffaw to herself. No need to wake them up and scare them. People. So easily scared.

They told stories about her to frighten their little ones and make their elders shudder.

If only they knew.

She looked up at stars. They knew.

They were there the day she had stood up for her right to have an opinion and voice a warning. She had seen fire burn without flame, heard a mountain move and crumble, smelled thick oil coming out of the sea.

They told her she was crazy. But then the people came.

Her family fled back to their ancestral home. They left her stranded.

She marveled at the blue. Such an unearthly shade, one only found in deep clear pools of snow-melt after that nasty fireball returned.

Its glow soothed her nerves.

She sat down to be drawn into its dream.

But snores interrupted her delving. She grasped a shock of grass. Chewed it then blew her minty breath towards the sleepers. Once they calmed she could read their thoughts.

Odd. They had no fear of being here in the middle of nowhere. They had no fear of her! They'd heard of the legends but — they weren't concerned. In one well-worn dream they had met her, even invited her in to sit with them as they served — a steaming liquid?

Cecilie was intrigued. They ought to be frightened. She had spent many seasons leaving huge footprints where they would find them and despair. They would follow her tracks that led away from her haunts. They never figured out her deception. She'd just stomp the ground with a foot here and another there, then ride her horse back. They never imagined she had a horse, would never believe that she could ride one, never looked her way as she made fun of them.

Most people weren't much fun. They were dangerous. But these people? There were three of them wrapped up, cocooned in fake fur. She pulled a twig out of her own.

Yes, she was not well-groomed, but there was no one to rake their fingers along her spine, untangle her hair, tickle her beard. Even the pink hairdo could be better if she had a proper mirror instead of that pool. Those fish kept making ripples as she tried to match the color at the tips of her ears. They laughed when she threatened to eat them, just flipped her a fin and darted away.

That was earlier today. She paused to think how time had abandoned her too. She had nothing to look forward to but a meeting with Death and she'd tell him to back off or be prepared for a thrashing. Once Death had threatened her horse. He wouldn't make that mistake twice! Had it been a century? Maybe two?

The stars began to hum a song she barely remembered. It spoke of The Beginning, a place even older than Death, a place he was forbidden to enter. Cecilie began to sway to the lullaby. She fell asleep.

She woke up to the bitter smell of dark liquid being boiled. The people were sitting around her. She looked deep into the eyes of the female. They were kind. Soft naked hands offered her a steaming cup of the brew. You have such beautiful pink hair. My name is Lily.

The stars were about to wink out. Her horse had joined her and waited patiently by her side.

Voices continued to speak in her mind. Be not afraid. We know you want to go home. We will take you there.

Surrounded by blue light, she knew she was ready.

© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.222] (31.August.2021)

~ 910 words

For August

IMAGE

Short Shots Image Prompt (August 2021)  (E) Short Shots Image Prompt (August 2021) #2255728 by Jeff

Footnotes
1  Aurora borealis, the northern lights.
2  There's no technical proof that the lights make a sound; but, it may be a type of synesthesia similar to me hearing what I read.