➴ technicolor

“The norðrljós,” Jendayi responds, her croon a quiet and soft noise, as if not to disturb the stars above them, “is that what you call them?” She turns her gaze, and golden eyes soon fall upon the alabaster and splotched form of a woman somewhat taller than she. She spies also the two ravens at her sides—a curious sight, Jendayi had never thought the other species to ally themselves with wolves (she thinks bitterly to her homelands, where other species were not treated with the same respect, but quickly pushed aside the thought). She turns her eyes northward once more, content to continue looking toward the sky and revel in its spectacle so long as the woman beside her was unaggressive. This night was far too beautiful to disrupt it with blood and anger, and Jendayi thought that perhaps Naudir knew that, too.

She said nothing else, but instead continued to revel in the skyline. It is only when her eyes trace the outer edge of the sky does she finally see the tops of trees much shorter than they should be. Jendayi’s tunneling attention finally falters, and now she begins to notice the mysteriousness in this forest along. The ground had long turned to ice, and underneath it she could see the remnants of green and deep brown where the bottom half of the trees were, petrified underneath the earth, allowing Jendayi to see the forest as if she were a bird flying among its canopy. Some of the trees were toppled and ruined, a beautiful painting preserved underneath the ever-frozen black ice. How odd and beautiful, she thinks, and quickly presses her nose to the ground. She wonders how thick the ice is, how long it has been here to keep this forest green despite the harsh winters. Above the sheets the branches had long lost their leaves and had grown barren as they usually did, but underneath it looked as if it were still in the thick of summer, when the snow mostly melts and the land blossoms with emerald and gold.

“This forest is strange, too,” Jendayi comments mildly, the flower tucked behind her ear shifting with the curl of her head. Her gaze seeks the woman once more, having not heard her move on or her scent dissipate. She would not turn away a companion who knew more about this place than she (especially on such a good night, which had put Jendayi in a particularly better mood than she usually was). How odd it was to think that now she stood underneath an endless expanse of shining stars, among a frozen forest left half alive.