• \\ Ryden oneshots // •

Underneath the stars lookin' for a sign

Point of view: 3rd person
Word count: 2.7k

"The stars are like moles of the skin of the night, adorn the darkness, creating wastage of beauty."

"Your beautiful moles form a constellation. They provoke me to kiss and dedicate a song to them. Where I confess that I love you, and that you own my passion."

—

In between the dark green, vast blanket of trees, somewhere in the world, a quiet corner in the mountains where the population didn't care too much about. So isolated and alienated from the rest of the people. No trace of noise or smells the cities radiate invaded the pureness of this spot. Just white, clear tranquility.

It was early winter. A bright and cheerful morning arrived after the sun first peeked from behind the farthest hill. The sun by itself emanated joy, glee, hope — the weather didn't make it justice by being so cold.

The mountain air was refreshing, in the way peppermint makes your nose and throat clear out with its freshness. It appeared to feel scarcely warm under the rays of sunlight — though it was as cold as icicles around a houses' roof, or the dense carpet of snow lying underneath their feet.

The breeze hitting against the blushed skin of cheeks and noses was so light and carefree, gentle, yet strong and powerful. It filled every nook, touched every branch, caressed every petal of blossoming flowers such as pansies and violas, bundles of leaves hanging off ancient trees, walked over the wet dirt, slid through pine needles.

Those waves of breeze carried a bunch of different smells, and by paying close attention, you could concentrate on scents nobody would be able to ever smell down in the city; where the unpleasant soup of pollution, infected the naturality of what once was clear air.

The gentlest and subtlest of smells. The barely-there flowers surviving through the cold weather, or the raw and strong scent of wet mud, predominant over the others, almost clouding them but not quite. It all summed up as winter — the way winter up in the mountain must smell like.

Apart from them, it seemed there was no other soul within a wide range of hectares and hectares of endless trees. Besides the flora, which serves as the habitat of the fauna, not a single human being.

For once in their entire lives, they could actually take a breath, and not feel like you're consuming and taking in everyone's addition to that repulsive soup of stenches.

It took a couple of days before they arrived. Over the course of those days, they hiked and sneaked around the limitless, and quite scary, areas of the dark forest. Nothing stopped them from keeping going, until they spotted that sort-of cabin, where they finally settled.

Although it seemed no other person had put foot on there in ages, a single toe on those grounds, there had been. There was that cabin in between all those beautiful hectares of pure nature, invading the rows of trees.

A once promising construction had been left unfinished, resting there in the middle of nowhere, its wood deteriorating in the frosty environment. It didn't even have a roof, just four walls and apparently a floor, but it was completely covered in snow.

The reason for such a decision, leaving a project unfinished, was completely unknown. Maybe the fright of having animals lurking around the spot, ready to pay a visit — it's true some wolves howled in the depths of the forest, and some other birds made eerie sounds during the night — or something else completely.

Mother Nature would claim what was theirs at some point, making history of those four wooden walls — just not today, they could make use of it.

The snow seemed to have accumulated there, due to the lack of pines to cover the ground. The sight was marvelous, with no footprints on it, merely and utterly white with no traces of ever being stepped on. After a few boot-prints though, it still looked wonderful.