Sterre sighed.

Years ago, Sterre would have laughed at the idea of claiming sanctuary in the Peak. She had never got along with other women – they were only challengers to her authority, distractions to her chosen lover, and they almost always refused to compete for her attention – but then again, she had rarely gotten along with anyone at all.

Now that she was old, homeless and had only a blind man for company, she no longer had the luxury of choosing exactly who she would spend her time with. And so she had agreed, somewhat reluctantly, to go to the Peak and find Inka.

Inka. Sterre’s pride balked at the idea of asking her for help. She had never been kind to the girl – she had barely managed to be kind to her own children – though she could not recall being particularly unkind to her either. Regardless, she doubted that the girl liked her very much – nobody ever liked her very much – and the prospect of relying on her made Sterre uncomfortable.

Yet, as with so many of her decisions as of later, she didn’t really have a choice.

The bare branches of the trees raked their bony fingers over her body as she made her way up towards the steep incline of the Vulcans’ home, Het Vuur on her heels. They were quiet as they walked, until they made it a little higher up the mountain where the trees began to thin out and let the wind grab at their hair, and where the ground became steeper and rockier.

When Het Vuur spoke, his teeth on her side, she paused, turning to glance out at the land the flooded the view below them. It was pretty, she supposed, but Sterre had never been one to wax poetry about anything. She didn’t really know what to say, but she would try.

“You can see most of the Crossing from up here,” she said simply, her dark eyes scanning the horizon. “Everything is so small, and pale with frost. The sea looks angry. It’s quite beautiful, really.”

She paused, turning to glance at Het Vuur before looking up towards the mountain behind them. She wondered whether it saddened him to hear that he was missing out on the view, or whether it comforted him to know that nature carried on without his watchful eye.

“There’s a long way left to climb,” she continued, changing the subject.

this thing of darkness
I ACKNOWLEDGE MINE