The zipper on Teri’s bag is open. It bends downwards, the pocket splaying out, like it’s trying to grab a breath of fresh air. Zippers remind me of blood. One time a long time ago, I pinched my finger in my coat. A layer of skin ripped out from its place on my hand when I instinctively yanked it out. I tried my best to conceal my tears, but Teri quickly noticed and took care of my bleeding.

Zippers remind me of blood, and blood reminds me of her.

Above the thick mud that covers the mountain, I follow the skirt that flutters ahead. Winter’s snow has only just left, and the days feel like they’re getting longer with each one that passes. Stagnant air and a thin fog are all that’s keeping me from bursting out of my restlessness. The great trees that weave through our path have it hard. Forced to stand out in the cold, but even so, at no time do they lose their colour.

As the setting orange glow of the dissipating sunlight sinks away, every step we take keeps it there for just as long. I can see the fog becoming ever thinner as we approach our destination. Teri in front of me, and Lio not far behind, the three of us have trudged uphill through mud and stone for yet another day. Teri comes to a stop and stretches back, reaching her hand towards the evening sky. I drag myself beside her before falling to my knees, and then on my side. The lopsided landscape is covered in a sheet of shadowy green as far as the eye can see. It seems it only takes one blink and the sun disappears into darkness as well.

I’ve always had the habit of staring off into the distance, far into the deep blue sky or the vast white clouds. The stars of the night contained the answers. Only in their refuge could I ever think to myself and wonder what lies beyond. Laying on the ground, in the thick mountain forests, the world is drowned in the sea of a million lights, each one reaching out to me, calling my name.

“Klaus.”

I feel a nudge on my shoulder, knocking me out of my trance. Teri leans over me staring directly into my eyes, her left side illuminated by the flickering campfire, and her right by the blurred starlight. Her body traces a figure into the glowing sky, head tilted slightly. A lurking expectancy hides beneath her gaze. She did always know how to get me to talk. Teri once told me that if I observe anyone for long enough, I’ll eventually figure out everything there is to know about that person. I would be able to predict their thoughts before they even knew them. I’m not sure how long that would have to be. I’ve known Teri for almost my entire life, so perhaps that long? Maybe if I start to pay attention now, I could understand her.

“You could have at least helped.” Teri continues after a short stare.

“Sorry what was that again? I dozed off.”

“I noticed that.” She says.

“If you noticed, then why talk like I know what you’re talking about?”

Teri takes a moment to think, or rather she purposefully pauses. She already knows what she is going to say– she already knew what I was going to say.

“Because I know that you know what I’m talking about.” She says.

She isn’t wrong; I’ve never been good at hiding my thoughts, especially not from her.

“I was having a really nice dream.” I say.

Teri looks mildly surprised for an instant, but quickly switches to her regular comforting and understanding smile. The smile that says she’s got me all figured out.

“Something tells me that’s not all there is to it.”

She speaks softly, but I can feel the weight in her voice. Teri lets herself fall to the ground and sits up cross-legged next to me, with her neck tilted back ever so slightly, staring into the wisps of the night. I look over at her for just a moment, then return my gaze to the sky.

“Do you remember the first time we came here?” She asks.

“Of course I do. Three years ago. Before,"

“So that’s what it is. You can’t stop thinking about him, can you? I’m sure you haven’t noticed, but you’ve changed quite a bit ever since Ciel left.” She says.

“Really? I don’t think I’ve changed at all.”

“A year ago, you wouldn’t have even thought about lying. Now you’ve become so familiar with telling half truths that you don’t even notice when you do. You’re so distant nowadays, like you’re isolating yourself.”

Perhaps she is right. Merely half the truth is no better than a lie. A long time ago, I was getting a glass of water for Ciel, but I tripped and spilled it all over the book that Lio used to keep all her flowers in. I had never made her cry before that incident, but I knew that it would be the first. Ciel helped me clean the mess and told me to blame it all of him. And so, I did. That was the first time I told a lie. The first and only time.

“I know I could never replace him, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m always available.” Teri says.

There’s a strangely troubling expression in Teri’s eyes as she says his name. Never had I seen something like that in her before. A void that cannot be sated. How long has it been there? I return to my own abyss, to the call of the wind, and the voice of the stars. But the allure of another lonely soul draws me back in.

“Say, Teri-, Theresa. Do you think it’s ever justified for someone to lie?”

“What makes you say that?” She asks.

“It’s nothing really. I just remembered something that Ciel once told me.”

“Well, the way I see it, if it’s for the benefit of someone else, then maybe. But eventually, it’ll come back to bite them in the back, like bad karma I guess.”

“So then it can’t be done?”

I am given no immediate response. Only a slight tilt of Teri’s head and a thoughtful smile. It always bothered me that she could effortlessly keep her thoughts hidden from me; never could I figure out what she was thinking. In the past, I told myself it was because I wasn’t looking hard enough. But if that were the case, I’m not sure how hard 'hard enough' is.

Teri swings her sight back to the sky.

“Innocence can be a powerful ally, and a lie can either grant it, or take it away.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“It means I don’t know the answer to your question.”

I stutter over my creeping discomfort. Teri always knew the answers. She is the starlight of the night sky.

“Does being innocent make someone right?” I ask yet another question, only to receive the same elusive smile.

“I’m sure you’ll find the answers to your questions someday. But until then, this conversation stays between the two us alright?”

“Okay.” I respond. Her voice conveys an oddly urgent tone, and the reason for it hides from my grasp.

“I need you to promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Alright, let’s both get some sleep. We’ve got another day of walking ahead of us.”

Teri hops up onto her feet and softly steps towards the dancing flame. She traces a crimson aura into the fire. I shut my eyes and all I see is red. It slowly fades to darkness with the dying of the crackling flames, but the colour remains. And in it, I see how the old world burned.

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Five winters, that is all I can recall living through. Anything before that is nothing but a blank haziness. Like the white dust that the season brings.

The winter of five years ago was the first time I left the Conservatory. I followed behind Teri and Ciel, placing each of my steps in the flattened layers of snow that he left in his wake. And in the other set of footsteps, Lio bounced along behind me, leaping on every pace. She eventually tripped over her short legs and fell face first into the snow. I thought she would cry, but she didn’t. It was only when I turned around to help her up that I thought to look back at the Conservatory. The home that I’d once thought to be so large, now dwarfed by the dark silhouettes of the distant mountains, and the vast blanket of white. It was at that moment that I first felt I was truly free.

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We awake at the crack of dawn and pack our bags. The daylight hours are short at this time of year. We make haste and are on our feet before the morning sun has fully emerged from the horizon. Usually when we head out adventuring, there is no goal; just aimless exploration. This is the first time it isn’t.

Teri treads ahead faster than normal. Her focus is directed forward, and she doesn’t say a word. Instead, she constantly glances from left to right, and back again. It’s such a strange sight, seeing her on edge.

Teri has always been a very attentive person. She’s so unbelievably aware of her surroundings it’s almost scary. One time, when the four of us were out camping, she suggested we turn back and head home, even though we had originally planned to stay out for six more days. I didn’t understand the reason for it initially, but Teri’s suggestions have always had an underlying urgency beneath them. The day after we returned, a severe snowstorm emerged, and the Conservatory was snowed in for the three days that it remained. It took another two days for the exits to be unblocked, with everyone’s best efforts. And just days prior, we were wearing T-shirts and sunglasses.

I decide to break the silence and give Teri some words of assurance.

“You know, you don’t have to look so hard. I don’t think we’ll miss it. I mean it kind of sticks out like a sore thumb. Literally.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to make you feel uneasy.” She says.

Her voice is calming, and instead gives me the reassurance I was looking to provide.

“It might still be a while away, so try not to stress yourself out.” I say.

“Perhaps, but we have been walking for a long time.” She suggests as she continues heading forward. Her white skirt dances above the field of silver petals. They fly off as their stems rustle and are picked up by a low breeze. I’ve read that this plant was not actually a flower, rather a weed. A kind of flower that denies the lives of others in order to thrive.

I turn to look behind me. Lio has stopped a fair distance back, squatting in the vast turf of spring snow. Her gentle breath sending their seeds back up into the sky. Teri sighs, then passes by me as she strides back on the path we just walked. I follow closely behind her.

Teri pulls her skirt against her shins before kneeling beside our friend. But Lio is the first to speak.

“Do you remember?” She asks Teri, her tone and intent pure as always. “When we came here three years ago, I picked up all the dandelions along the way, and on the way back, I gave their petals back to the wind. Seeing them having grown back into so many more makes me happy.”

“They’re pretty aren’t they?”

Teri tilts her head and smiles. Lio nods joyously in return.

“I remember you collected an entire basket full of these. I also remember that the petals began to fly off on their own, which is why you decided to let them all go.” Teri says.

A surprised expression appears on Lio’s face for just a moment, but is quickly replaced by her usual innocent smile.

“You know,” Teri says, “You and these flowers have quite a lot in common. Pretty, and always drifting off.”

The two share a grin, and I think I do as well.

“Let’s try to stick together okay? We don’t want you to get lost out here. Also, I have a feeling that we’re almost there.”

And, sure enough, after not even another half hour, we arrived at our destination. The sun shines high, a cloudless blue sky. It illuminates our eerie and unnatural rediscovery; a tall rusted pipe emerging from the ground. The end reaches too tall to look inside. I tap on its thick outer layer. It makes no sound, no movements. Teri unravels the shovel tied to her bag. The structure looked just as it had when we first found it. And three years later, the time has finally come for it to reveal what it is hiding.

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Why? Why is the sky blue? Why do the stars shine? Why does Teri tell me to keep things secret?

“Why?” is the question I’ve never found an answer to.

Early during the winter of three years ago, we left the Conservatory on another camping trip. We headed to the Northern mountains to see the glowing sky. With thick boots on our feet and large coats to keep warm, the four of us marched over thin premature snow. The first four days, a brewing storm blotted out the sky. After it blew its course, the night became visible again and along with it, the sky’s glow. That night, we stayed up late. Laying in the newly fallen snow, with nothing but the pitch-black forests, the dim heavens, and each other’s company. We fell asleep laughing. Me, Teri, Lio. And Ciel.

Teri found the old pipe on the day that followed. A dome of snow balanced on its end. Under the frozen outer layer of ice was a surface covered entirely with moss. It looked just like a dying tree. If it weren’t for Teri’s keen eye, the rest of us would have walked right by. Ciel made a fire to melt the ice, and the rest of us stripped it of its mold. We tried pulling it, pushing it, but it wouldn’t move an inch. In the end, we headed back home with a vow to one day return, and a promise to keep our discovery a secret.

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My shovel digs deep into the rocky soil. The recently melted winter makes the job easier, but my back still feels the strain. I push the spade in the ground and stomp on it once. Then I pull the unturned earth up and over my shoulder. On top of the remainder of todays daylight we only have one more day before we must head home if we want to make it back in time. Every minute is valuable. I count every dig I made between the three of us. But after I reach three hundred forty-seven, we have unveiled nothing but more pipe. With a hole deeper than my height and the sun beginning to set, we decide to call it a day.

In my dreams, I’m still digging at the ground. I count into the thousands. I can hear my shovel being jammed into the dirt.

When the new day rises, Teri and Lio are already gone. I find them hard at work in our ditch. In its center lies the pipe, but connected to it, something that wasn’t there the day before. It’s a large metal box, dirtied in every shade of brown, and so is Teri’s skirt. A round hatch on the side of the object remains half buried, and the two are poking hard into the dirt to uncover it. I grab my shovel and slide down into the trench.

“Looks like you two have done quite a bit without me.” Both Teri and Lio are so deeply focused in their work that I manage to surprise them.

“Look at what we found!” Lio responds excitedly. “What do you think it is?”

“Hard to tell, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

I get a closer look at the hatch. There seems to be what I think is a sort of locking mechanism on its highest point. However, the metal has long since broken down and it shouldn’t provide much of any resistance. Since this hatch had a lock, it likely also has a hinge, presumably on the opposite side. It doesn’t take long for the three of us to unearth it. As soon as we do, Teri asks Lio to find some water.

“Lio,” Teri says. “could you run around and try and find some snow or ice? I’d like to wash off this lock to make it easier to open.”

“Of course!” She happily replies.

“Come right back if you can’t find anything.”

Lio quickly scales the steep slope of the ditch and disappears. It looks like she has so much energy to burn. She’s probably been worn out by all the digging. Looking for water might prove to be even more tedious for her though, winter was recent, but it’s been long enough for all the snow to have melted. I’m sure Teri is aware of this as well, so why would she still ask her to go look? Not only that, the lock is brittle. We don’t need to clean it. It will most likely break if we try to open it anyways.

“She’s not going to find anything out there.” I tell her.

“I know.” She says.

“Should I tell her to come back?”

“No.”

“Why not? The lock looks weak enough to break with our bare hands.”

I am given no immediate response. Everything Teri does has a reason behind it. That is how it’s always been. But every once in a while, her logic isn’t very obvious. I know the reason is there, but I’m not sure if this is one of the times that she will tell me what it is; so my heart jumps when she speaks.

“I have a feeling I already know what we will find inside this thing. And it’s something I don’t want her to see.”

I gulp down a lump in my throat.

“What is it?” I ask.

Teri looks directly at me. But she doesn’t meet my gaze, instead staring straight through. She forces her frown into a feeble, barely recognizable smile, if only for just a moment.

“Plug your nose.”

I follow her advice.

Bending over, she picks up a rock the size of her hand and smashes the lock apart. The shattered metal falls to the ground and vanishes into the dirt. Teri pulls down on the hatch and it swings to the floor with little resistance.

It is dark inside the box. The trees and the clouds fade out the sunlight. All I can make out is a cramped space, outlined by the where the edge of shadow meets the darkness. The metal is much thicker than its rusted exterior would have it seem.

“I can’t see anything.”

Instinctively, I take my fingers off my nose to speak. And immediately, my sense of smell is completely overwhelmed. My hand slams itself back over my nose and mouth. I fall to my knees.

“What is that smell?” I exclaim.

“Take a look for yourself.” Teri replies, her voice obscured by her hand, which has not left her nose since she opened the hatch. She flicks on a flashlight and points it inside.

I almost let out what I ate this morning.

“Is that-?”

“It is.”

“Why would anyone want to be buried in this thing?”

“I don’t think it was his choice.”

Teri lifts the lid back shut, wedging her shovel into the ground to keep it from collapsing back down. She lets out a sigh, waiting for me to say something. I struggle to form any relevant comment.

“I’ll go look for Lio.” Is all I can think to say.

I glance at Teri for approval. She tilts her chin down slightly.

“Not a word of this to anyone.”

I nod and she sends me on my way.

We leave as soon as Lio and I return, instead of waiting for the next day. There is a slow, low blowing breeze on the way back, heading against our direction. I walk ahead with Lio, a fair distance from Teri. Because she smells like trash. That girl never was afraid to get her hands dirty.

There is no snow on the way home, but I wish there was. It reminds me of the past. All of it has disappeared now. I wonder where we’ll be the next time it falls.