… until she found the stars, and then sought Orion in their midst. He’d been waiting for her, as so often before. For a while they just sat and talked. About anything and everything that came to mind. About the weight of the world and about taking the first step and the last step. And about all the steps that come in between. And most importantly, about the sound of snow falling.
The ground was still clad in scattered white and what darkness remained seemed friendlier and less daunting now. And for a while Time appeared content to slow down and stand back to be viewed in perspective, rather than clinging to the spotlight on centre stage.
Sitting there on the edge of the cliff with the watery abyss below and millions of lights reaching down from above it was easy to believe they were alone in the world. Not a trace illuded to the contrary. In places like that talking is easy. So is listening.
Words grew obsolete. All they needed was the sound of snow falling.