Duck Lake a mote will turn the balance

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the girl waited still, a statue, sensing the growing brightness as gradually the sun sunk. she perched amongst the trailing aspens, their fronds whispering in the hushed breeze as it stirred her short-cropped summer mantle. she'd found this place a few days prior, made her home in a long-abandoned fox den and waited, patiently, each night to occur what had the night before. 

it came swiftly and suddenly, and the lake was set afire. light blazed into her optics, white fire that she held near-painfully in her gaze. for a moment, two, and then it was fading. she dropped to her stomach, quickly, eyelids pulled closed over her scarred eyelids. darkness worked best, she'd learned, and quickly enough did vivid colour bloom behind her eyelids. mind latched onto colours and shapes, vaguely painful pressure mounting yet worth the spectacle. 

and then flashed a burning image, rugged, sharp, she knew instinctively it to be a mountain range. the colours faded, far quicker than they had the last couple nights, and the girl was made still. she crouched, carefully, the last remnants of colour and movement reducing her vision to almost nothing. a moment of vivid colour for a minute of darkness.