Esmeralda’s boots crunched the firm ground beneath her as she ascended the hill. Shielding her eyes from the midday sun she squinted into the valley below, where the arid terrain transformed into a dense wood.

“Astrid! Come up here!” She turned and called to her partner, who scampered over to join her at the top of the hill.

“What’s up?” Astrid caught her breath as she stopped next to Esmeralda, her face shadowed by a gray baseball cap, hair hanging out the back of it in a loose golden ponytail.

Esmeralda pointed to where the forest loomed. “Wanna take a look?”

Astrid smiled. “Yeah! Watch your step getting down here.”

The women tread down the hill, tripping over rocks and divots in the hard soil. Grass grew gradually thicker around them until the tall, thick trees of the forest overtook their tiny figures. They waited, and watched, and listened.

Animals skittered on the fringes of their perception. Sunlight burst through the canopy in fits and starts. Damp, lively air filled their nostrils. They heard nothing from the forest itself, even as they reached out inside themselves towards it.

The women stayed close to one another as they explored. Astrid, spry as ever, danced around hazards and clambered over felled trees with casual grace. Esmeralda, quickly feeling her age, hid grunts of effort as she ducked under low-hanging branches and stumbled over pitfalls.

It was cooler here than on the sun-streaked hills and Esmeralda began to feel the chill through her jacket. Sighing, she rested her hand against a tree, letting the natural silence of the forest slowly fill her once more, washing away the turmoil broiling beneath her skin. An image fluttered down upon her mind: herself, at the center of a mass of land; an intangible force, like magnetism, surrounded her; protected her; repelled the dangers that sought her flesh.

From behind she heard the sharp snap of a twig; the firm patter of an animal’s paws; and Astrid exclaiming “Oh!”

Esmeralda wheeled around.

“Astrid?”

She scanned the landscape in front of her; she hadn’t seen where Astrid had gone. She called for her again as her throat tightened with anxiety. “Songbird?”

For a moment that shambled past there was deafening silence, the forest squashing Esmeralda between its lush green walls. Then Astrid’s voice, girlish and out of breath, filled her ears, releasing the vice grip: “Es! I’m over here!”

With some effort Esmeralda found her way across tree trunks and overgrowth to find Astrid nearby, whose freckled olive-brown face was glowing with excitement. She spoke in a deluge.

“Oh, Es! You should’ve seen it. It looked like a fox, but it was huge and white! I just came upon it all of a sudden, and I was watching it eat; but I must’ve stepped on something and scared it off. Oh, gosh!”

Esmeralda smiled as the words flooded over her. Astrid was abuzz; she loved animals.

“Gosh, I can’t believe it. What was that thing do you think?”

“Hm? What, the fox?”

“Mm, but it was white! There’s no white foxes.”

“What? Yes there are. I’ve seen them.”

“Wait, really?”

Esmeralda nodded, and slowly she realized that she had only ever seen one white fox; and with sinking spirit she realized what white fox she had seen, and where, and when; and she hoped deep within her heart that this was not the same fox, and wished greatly to take back what she had said, feeling as though she had spoken her anxiety into existence.

Eager to change the subject and now also to leave the forest, Esmeralda suggested they head home while it was still light. Astrid’s glowing smile seemed to dull a bit, but with a stretch and a yawn she agreed; and so they started back towards the northern hills, hand in hand, helping one another traverse the rough terrain.

The damp air of the woods had soaked into Esmeralda a bit, and she huddled up next to Astrid, whose warmth comforted her. The younger woman clutched her close as they navigated the forest.

Something moved and Esmeralda stopped, her eyes darting to the right. She had seen something - had she?

“Es, love, what’s up?”

Esmeralda let go of Astrid’s arm and walked forward.

“I saw something.” The words came out before she could consider them, but she was already bending over and picking it up by the time she could’ve said anything else.

“It” was an uncanny thing; polygonal, worn-looking, textured as though made of sandstone. Markings Esmeralda didn’t recognize were etched into it on all sides, forming mesmeric patterns. A faint, pulsing light the colour of the spring sky emanated from them, a soft blue glow.

Esmeralda turned it over for a long moment in her hands, studying it closely, fingers awash in the pallid light. She handed it to Astrid, who had joined her; she was also fascinated by it.

“It’s warm,” she said, a puzzled expression on her face. Esmeralda nodded. They stood there in silence, examining the object together.

“Do you think it’s from before the collapse?”

Esmeralda shrugged. “Do you? You’re the academic.”

Astrid laughed. “Es, you’re literally a teacher.” She handed the object back to Esmeralda. “Anyway, I have no idea when or where this thing is from. I don’t recognize any of these markings at all.”

Esmeralda shook her head. “Me either, but I don’t feel anything nasty from it. Let’s bring it with us and see if we can figure out what it is.” She shoved it into her bag and they continued on.

Deep in thought, Esmeralda spoke little as she and Astrid found their way back to the hills. She felt the silence of the forest filling her once more, smothering her racing thoughts. It reminded her of something Astrid had said soon after they’d first met, when with a sly smile she’d barbed Esmeralda about being the “strong, silent type”.

Esmeralda stifled a giggle.

The sun sank as they trekked back to their motorbike, a beaten-up old thing Esmeralda had driven for years, its body a sickly gray covered in stains. After rising early and hiking all day, Esmeralda was grateful even for the motorcycle’s thin, hard seat; and with Astrid’s arms around her she started the engine.

To their left, far below the derelict cliffside road, the Al-Rahba twinkled in the late afternoon sunlight. Esmeralda cherished living near the water, its cool breeze a constant companion to her busy mind. The Al-Rahba’s cerulean waves were the first thing she’d noticed about living in Rask, at the time by herself in a crumbling little hut. Every morning, stepping outside, the Al-Rahba was what greeted her, a cavernous expanse that met the sky and continued forever, as though a painter had splashed azure across the infinite stretches of reality.

“It’s mysterious and stormy, just like you,” Astrid had quipped one night, grinning and blushing as they’d held hands by the water. It was what Esmeralda thought of whenever she saw the sea, whenever she felt its wind. She smiled now as she rode, Astrid’s arms tight around her waist, the wind whipping twilight’s chill into her face as she maneuvered the familiar hazards of the dilapidated highway.

A half-hour’s ride from their excursion site that day was Rask, a town of fractured cobblestone streets perched precariously amongst the hills. Its buildings were uncanny mish-mashes of materials, houses being built, re-built, and patched up with whatever was available over the years. Low-roofed, crooked shacks made up Rask’s neighborhoods, worn roads winding through the helter-skelter layout of its disparate, many-coloured buildings. From far away, Esmeralda always thought the town looked like a diorama made of trash.

She drove straight through the town, only coming to a stop before the weather-beaten lighthouse lying comfortably alone on the village’s outskirts.

They were home.

Esmeralda had fixed it up herself and her amateurish, survivalist construction was plain to see from the outside, its original storm-grey exterior patched with a variety of mismatched materials and means, resembling a hastily constructed model.

“Haphazard and messy, but it gets the job done - just like you,” Astrid had joked once, while helping her do repairs. Esmeralda smiled as she unlocked the door.

The bottom floor opened into a modest kitchen, a small open area where they kept a small amount of foodstuffs, a woodstove, a table and two chairs. On the back wall was perched a small window, where the light peered through in the afternoon, when the sun was falling in the sky. Astrid stayed here to make tea while Esmeralda climbed the short staircase that wound to the top floor, the place they did most of their living.

The room here wasn’t large, but its high ceiling lent it a cavernous feel. Against one wall sat a bookcase, built by Esmeralda herself, its dark wood crooked and creaking under Astrid’s modest collection of texts; across from this was a large bay window that opened up out onto a crumbling balcony, where in the evening the setting sun poured through its glass panes, filling the room with luminous orange light as though the world were on fire; and on clear nights Esmeralda and Astrid would sit outside, and Astrid would pluck away on that strange little instrument of hers, Esmeralda listening dutifully by her side, until the night sky turned the same violet black as the Al-Rahba did on moonless nights and she would gaze out into it, that great endless smear of darkness smudged across her field of vision.

Below the window lay a small cot wrapped in thick blankets, where they slept, close to the fireplace; and in the corner sat a small, worn desk the women both shared, Esmeralda’s painting materials stuffed into its drawers, various trinkets of Astrid’s scattered across its top.

Esmeralda dropped her bag and sat down on the cot with an exhausted grunt. She felt her mind wander to the strange artifact they’d found, but she was exhausted, and she wrenched her brain back to her, like a disobedient pet. Now she thought of what Astrid had seen, and Silvia-

“Black tea, for the professor.” Astrid’s voice startled Esmeralda out of her head. The younger woman marched up the stairs and sat down next to Esmeralda, setting two cups of tea carefully on the floor before them. At the use of this academic title Esmeralda glared at Astrid, who simply smiled.

They were silent a bit, and Esmeralda lost herself looking at the Al-Rahba out the window, a faint chill drifting in through the glass, until Astrid asked what she was thinking about.

“Just what we found.” Esmeralda sipped her mostly untouched tea, now growing lukewarm.

“You’re not worried it’s dangerous, are you?”

Esmeralda shook her head. “Like I said, I didn’t sense anything overwhelming from it. Whatever it does probably isn’t foul, or even that strong. I’ll do a cleansing spell on it to make sure, though.”

Astrid nodded. “Alright. That’s your lane. I’ll stick to the books.”

Esmeralda frowned, but said nothing.

They finished their tea mostly in silence, and Astrid went downstairs to wash herself in the basin. With faint reluctance pulling at her heart Esmeralda opened her bag and retrieved the artifact.

It felt, looked, and behaved the same as earlier. As night cloaked the room in darkness Esmeralda lit one of the candles on the desk and sat, the hard wooden chair creaking under her. In the flickering light she studied the object, tracing its patterns with her eyes. After some time she pursed her lips, retrieved brush and ink and parchment from the desk drawers, and began constructing a spell.

Esmeralda’s limbs ached but with some consternation she drew out a series of dramatic characters on her scroll, imbuing in each stroke something of her magic. Tuning out everything but her own little world, she looked deep within herself, and as she painted she called upon certain elements, energies, and ideas, pulling them up out of her soul, like reaching into a black pit and grabbing prey and yanking it out; what she called upon was anything she felt would help cleanse the artifact of any traps or curses embedded within it. When she’d finished writing she tore off the length of parchment, set it down in the middle of the room, and placed the object on top of what she’d written, a hypnotizing design of dramatic brushstrokes.

In silence Esmeralda began to move methodically around the room, a bizarre dance to no music or discernible rhythm. Esmeralda was tall, and she’d never carried her frame with much care, but she was an experienced witch and her movements now were graceful and fluid, reflecting her skill. Her eyes were shut tight as she danced and worked to focus on her spell.

As she twirled and leapt wind began to swirl around her, unnatural in origin, not cool or warm but simply present, its energies sending Esmeralda’s dark curls gently swaying across her face as she moved and various loose items around the room - papers, fabric, open books - fluttering. It filled her body, too, and she felt its touch, fleeting but infinite in its depth, and she felt it coil around both her and this strange object she’d found. Her mind was empty, her thoughts blown away in the breeze. The wind followed her as she danced.

Her magic yielded no response and after a while Esmeralda gently laid it all to rest, sighing with exhaustion as her arms dropped at her sides. Outside the moon and stars had risen, and the mild daytime had given way to a chilly night, and the room had grown cold; shivering, Esmeralda sat gingerly by the fireplace, tending logs and kindling with practiced skill. Eventually Astrid sat beside her, having crept up the stairs mouse-quiet.

Her face glowed a warm honey-brown in the firelight. She smiled at Esmeralda when she sat down, but when she spoke her expression was one of concern.

“I wanted to wait for you to finish before I came in. Is - is it ok?” Her eyes darted to the thing on Esmeralda’s desk. The older woman yawned and explained what she’d done.

Astrid grinned. “Well, the wind loves its loyal retainer.”

Esmeralda reached out and ruffled Astrid’s hair, yielding playful grumbling from the young woman. Esmeralda smiled. “The wind is always there for me.” She paused. “Like you are.”

At this Astrid blushed and smiled. “Es...Well, I’m glad I can be. And I’m glad you’re here for me, too.”

Together the women quietly passed the night, their thoughts and conversation wandering as it always did. In the warm glow of the fire’s embers and each other’s embrace they fell asleep, as the strange stone they’d found sat on Esmeralda’s desk, runes pulsing faintly and steadily through the night.