She sees the lights first, the yellow pinpricks dancing in the darkness, and she smiles. They are familiar, those lights, though last time she saw them they weren’t so evident – of course, last time things had been normal, the sky normal, and there had been sunshine. She moves forward, touching her sister’s dark crest in greeting, fighting to urge to stay there. She doesn’t know Avelina well, but she certainly isn’t a stranger, and Holler’s gratitude suddenly feels overwhelming, that she has been found in this dark place.
“Avelina,” she says, “it’s so good to see you – and your fireflies.”
She supposes she could shift into one herself – she hasn’t tried, hadn’t thought to – but she prefers it this way, in their company rather than one herself. She almost laughs at her sister’s comments - freaky seems like an understatement – and she nods, the move almost imperceptible in the dark.
“It’s so strange,” she says, then, “has this ever happened before?”
Holler has known only a year, four seasons. No one taught her the rhythms of the world, nor did she think she needed teaching. She doesn’t know if this is a regular occurrence, some fifth season of darkness, and she hopes her older sister can shine some light (pun not intended) on the whole ordeal.
holler
