Buried Treasure

Sparrow stepped onto the black sand beach, the crushed obsidian crunching lightly underfoot. The sun saw low in the sky, with the black shards reflecting it with such luminosity, it appeared as if the ground were made of lava. The steep contrast between the rivets of sand which were shaded and not reflecting the sunset versus the ridges which were lit aflame by the sun's glow made a stark and shocking transition which emulated the seas themselves, appearing as if the sun were, in fact, illuminating an ocean held still rather than the sands. With each step, Sparrow looked back to see how the sun highlighted the ridges of her pawprint, the valleys of her pads appearing deep and darkened as if each were a chasm carved in the earth rather than the light steps of one enjoying the early evening.

Though warm from the earlier daylight, the ebony sands were no where near as insufferably hot as their glow may have suggested. Although it was still summer and the sands were indeed dark enough to become scorching in the height of the day, this particular day had been overcast, with the lazy clouds drifting overhead and their haze casting away the sun's rays in the peak of their heat. The clouds remained, but parted enough such that the golden hues of the sunset were cast strong during the golden hour. Sparrow had half the mind to bury herself in the sand and asphyxiate in their glory. She wished to lie in a sun-kissed mound upon the beach and watch the waves as they rolled rhythmically in until the sky was no longer alight and the air grew cold.

The mere idea of having to cleanse the countless granules of midnight sky off was revolting enough for her to be snapped to her senses and avoid snuggling down into the depths below her. As the clouds grew and dimmed the light, the surrounding scene faded into a near inky blackness in which heavens, sea, and land merged into one and only the sound of the ocean waves were there to remind of their place. The air grew damp and the stars and moon were drowned out by the oncoming storm. Sparrow was too far into the scene to avoid the rain, so she pushed on until she was beneath the covering of a tree some ways back from the waters.

Eventually, the first drops fell undetected in the darkness with the sound of the waves. Only once this became a steady pour did the precipitation become visible in the jet black landscape. What Sparrow didn't expect was the first flash of lightning. Its sharp light reflected off of the obsidian and the water so brightly that wrenching your eyes shut could leave a wolf seeing stars- and not the ones above the storm. The following, less intense flashes of lightning stretched and branched overhead, the smallest of their fractal tendrils still reflecting off the beach below. Enticing as an elaborate display of fireworks- something wolves would have to pretense for in their mind- it was difficult to determine whether to focus on the show above or below. Regardless of which display caught the attention, there was an immense and deep feeling of satisfaction, of gratitude and peacefulness.

The petrichor scent wafted heavy in the air, the hot humidity thick and palpable, only refreshed by each wave of rain that pushed the haze down. Although the storm offered cooling, the waters sank into the dark, warmed ground, causing steam to slowly rise from the pristine shards as they glimmered with the lightning. The fog settled inches from the ground, making the shine less intense and more dispersed, lighting up more of the surrounding area with every strike. It was an all-consuming kind of experience that enveloped the entire being and pressed firmly into their mind, forcing its way into their memory to never be forgotten.

Feelings of the night may be mixed- a feeling of nostalgia though no previous memory of the event at hand existed, a loneliness that wished for company in which to share the moment with, yet an appreciation of the solitude that came with solidary travel. It argued that both were appreciated and that being company or being alone were both ways to enjoy the same space. It conjured feelings of quiet thought, reminiscing, and wonder. It was the kind of night that went unspoken as a vivid and precious memory in the future. It was something to look back on as a moment of peace where the passing minutes felt like an eternity, but also mere seconds.

As quietly as it came, the rain went, leaving the lightshow in the unmarred heavens while the steam drifted skywards, illuminating the entire scene with every soft flicker of remaining skylight.

Wc: 802