Emberwood The secret incredient is crime

Set a little later this evening.

It was chilly, but it could be colder. There were flurries, but it could be snowier. All in all, there were reasons to write the night off—but twice as many reasons to sit out at the edge of the forest and watch the flakes fall, illuminated by the pale glow of the moon sifting just barely through the clouds.

Pygmalion had stopped here during a late-night, restless border patrol, caught by the beauty of the evening. He thought of waking Bhediya but decided against it; she needed her rest. There would be plenty of winter moonlights for them to enjoy, for the season was just beginning. His season.

He'd always enjoyed it. The constant darkness, the dancing lights, the twinkling stars. Mam had told him many stories of the stars, and though the colored glow was absent here, the celestial glitter remained. And would remain, everywhere he traveled. A perennial presence.