Night of the Northern Lights

               It would be the darkest and coldest night when 7-year-old Synneva sat in front of the fireplace. The firewood crackled as embers danced about, painting the right side of Synneva’s face in a warm glow. She craned her head to look into the archway that lead to the kitchen. From where she was, she could peek an arm moving around. Her mamma and grandfather’s voices mingled with the sound of chopping and bubbling water.

               She quickly pulled on her gloves. Though she despised not being able to feel what she touched, she didn’t want the cold to bite into her slender fingers. With practiced movements, she tiptoed towards the front door and carefully opened it. Just enough for her body to squeeze in so the winter wind would not have a chance to slither into the house.

               The sun began to set, the night eager to take over. The cold squirmed its way into Synneva’s multiple layers of clothing and sent shivers down her body. It won’t be long before her mamma would realise she was missing. She quickened her pace and headed towards the fringe of the forest behind her house. There were carvings on some of the trunks, carvings only she understood. They provided guidance in the forest who trapped lost ones. Weaving her way between trees, she arrived at a spot where two large bushes, now bare of leaves, planted itself in front of a pine tree. It had two crosses carved into its trunk. Synneva brushed the snow off her pants. Her breath came out in puffs as she reached for the hollow in the trunk. Just wide enough to slip in a note. Ever since she noticed the carvings, she tried to check her secret place every day.

               She always felt excited whenever there was something in the tree hollow. Would it be a quest to scout and collect rare winter flowers? Maybe someone needed a jar of her mamma’s homemade jam? Her gloves made it hard to open the folded paper and it took her several tries before she could read it. Her eyes twinkled as she read the words over and already, her mind was stringing together plans and ideas to complete the quest. It would require meticulous planning and great bravery. She looked up into the skies where the stars mimicked her eyes. They were laid out perfectly tonight, not a single cloud dared to try and cover them. It would be the most beautiful night and she would have to save it.

               “Synneva!” She heard a distant voice cutting its way into the forest and quickly stuffed the note into her pocket.

               “How many times have I told you not to sneak off like that? And yet, you always, always do it. I told you dinner was soon didn’t I, little snow?” Her mamma brushed off the snow on her coat and boots a little less gentle than usual. The smell of pumpkin soup wrapped around her just like the warmth that soothed her numb face. Synneva mumbled an apology but kept faced the ground for she knew if she looked up, her eyes would betray her.

               “Bestefar?”

               “Yes, Synneva?” Her grandfather answered as he pulled apart his garlic bread to dip it into the soup.

               “Tonight, the northern lights will come up right?”

               He looked out the window and saw only darkness. “Oh yes, it will. Tonight…tonight there is a wedding between two Gods. They will have foxes pulling their marriage wagon and the foxes would go so fast and leave colours behind them. The faster the foxes go, the more vibrant the colours will be. The more vibrant the colours are, the better the wedding.”

               Each time Synneva asked about the northern lights and each time the story was different.

               “Don’t fill her head with these nonsenses,” her mamma retorted, and her grandfather chuckled.

               She was made to clean the dishes that night and sent to bed earlier than usual. She couldn’t sleep of course, she had a quest to complete. When she was certain the whole house was asleep, she grabbed her slingshot that she hid between the wooden frame and mattress and snuck out.

               Green and blue waves danced in the sky. They were as though someone had painted the skies with wide, bold strokes. The colours shifted from various shades of blue and green. A hint of red started to appear. The colours mingled together but never so much that it became muddy and indistinguishable. She marvelled at the celestial show until she noticed that the lights were all spiralling down towards a point in the distance. “That must be it!” She thought and began running towards it, taking in gulps of cold air that burned her lungs.

               A figure held a jar towards the sky and the lights funnelled into it. The jar swirled with all the colours, she was stealing the lights. A thief. She loaded up her slingshot and let a stone fly towards her. It hit her right arm and the thief faltered.

               “Stop!” Synneva yelled. The light was still being sucked into the jar but at a less alarming rate now. She aimed her slingshot at the jar this time.

              “Stop? Why would I stop, little snow?”

  “The lights are not yours.”

               “Then are there yours?”

               Her mamma told her that she was born on a night of the northern lights, they were hers. And they were everyone else’s. They belonged to the land, the people, and the skies. They were made to spread their wings in the skies and shower the land with blessings. She squinted her eyes and pulled on her slingshot.

               She would not let them be taken away.

               Her stone soared in the air. Just as it collided with the glass jar, someone grabbed her arm. She was whirled towards the person. Her mamma was so close that she could smell the mint in her breath.

               “Synneva, what are you doing here? Are you crazy?” Her mamma kneeled on the ground and grabbed her shoulders tightly. “My goodness, let’s go, it’s too cold.”

               Her mamma pulled her towards the direction of the house. As Synneva looked back, the thief was gone. But the lights were back in the sky. She looked at it once more, drinking it in before she was yanked back into the house.