Northern_Lights_2021

2 There once was a man. He was wealthy and powerful, his house full of expensive things and rare gems. He lived in a big tower made of glass for he was in love with dusk and dawn and never wanted to miss even one passing of the sun past the horizon’s line. The man had a horse. It was a great, strong mare with dark, glossy hooves that sparkled like stars when the light caught them, and a mane of hair that was black as the night and flowed just as beautifully as midnight’s silky sky. Once, the man took his horse and went to the nearest town, for hermits like him also need some company from time to time. There, at a tavern, he met a woman. She was bold and free, and her wit was as sharp as the blade in the sheath at her hip, hidden behind her long, billowing red skirts. They talked, and the man offered her good wines and the finest meats. She agreed, laughing and teasing him, and he was ready to give up everything just to see her maddening smile one more time. The man told the woman about his castle, about his love for the setting and rising sun, about his horse and his gems. The woman listened. They parted ways when it was time for the man to be going home. His heart ached at the thought of leaving the gorgeous and clever woman behind, but she didn’t ask to come, so he didn’t pose the question. The next time they met, he had come to the town to fetch some supplies. She agreed to visit his castle but only if she would be able to return to the town before the sun would set. “I have a cat,” she said. “She won’t like it if I don’t warm my bed for her.” The man didn’t need to be told twice; if the woman was refusing to stay the night, he wouldn’t make her. They spent a lovely day together in the man’s tower. When it was time for the woman to go, she refused to ride back with the man on his raven-haired horse. “It’s time for you to watch the sunset. You won’t make it if you spend your time ferrying me around. I will be at my doorstep in an hour, right before my cat returns from her rat hunt,” she said and left, her scarlet skirts trailing behind her like bloodied rose petals on the glass steps of the tower’s spiral staircase. The man stayed, and he watched the figure in red strut resolutely away from the castle until it became too small to be seen even with his sharp sight. For the first time in his life, he didn’t notice when dusk settled, the dipping sun’s rays refracting through the glass of his tower. His eyes were for the woman only. The third time they met, it was at a crossroads between the town and the man’s glass tower. The man was going to travel to the Far, Far Lands and find the unimaginable treasures hidden there. He only took his long black sword and his star-blessed mare. The woman, on the other hand, wanted to see the world. She only took her red cat and her blade that never left her anyway. “Do you want to go to the Far, Far Lands and search for the unimaginable treasure with me?” “I have no interest in gold or emeralds,” retorted the woman, and the man’s heart fell. The sword at his back suddenly felt impossibly heavy. Yet, the beautiful woman continued after only a beat of hesitation. “But the Far, Far Lands sound good enough for me.” The man smiled the brightest and happiest smile that the woman had ever gleaned from him, and she couldn’t help but grin in response. The man mounted his mare and held out a hand to the woman. Agile and fearless, she climbed the tall mare in one graceful leap and settled behind his back. “My cat asks whether there are mice for her to hunt,” the woman questioned when the mare started. “We won’t know until we get there,” the man responded truthfully. “But if we find none, we’ll travel as long as necessary for your hunter to be sated.” At that, the man spurred his mare on, and they rode off, uncaring for what they left behind and what awaited them in the foreign lands. They held close all that mattered. Far, Far Lands Kirby Fesler