Fox Fires by Child13

Said to be caused by a fox, Who dusted the sky with snow. The snow would not become the stars, But instead the clustered strings of light that float and shimmer in the sky.

Like waves, they move in and out.

Flickering and stretching at an uneven pace.

An aged hunter treads lightly in the snow. The light of the fox fires making his dark armor shine. Contrasting like the bright stars in the dark sky.

The grizzled hunter removes their somber hood. And tilts his bowed head to the sky.

Their blinded eye catches the light of the fox fires. Like a stream of water reflecting light, and creating a rainbow. The same spectacle happens in both the eye and mind of the hunter.

They exhale their long held breath. They’ve held that old breath for a long time.

Caught in the magnificent beauty of the fleeting lights. It calls their name.

A sense of awe, imagination, tranquility, and so much more washes over them.

But he knows well not to speak or whistle to the fox fires. Their souls prefer the silence.

They plop down into the cold, frozen dust. It's soft. They let out another held breath. It freezes as it is released.

Shiny, but glistening. Beautiful, but filled with so much more. Exciting, but holding so much hurt.

The hunter’s eyes are darker than they used to be. But still hold the flame they had years ago. It's more controlled now. A fact that might offend some. But relieve others.

But they are still just as dangerous. As they travel alone.

But. Here they aren’t truly alone. Here the fox fires comfort the hunter.

Reassuring him. That along his endless journey. Someone will be waiting for him. At the end of the light. In the shadows they cast.

Their eyes are like an antique. Something to be collected and admired. But it is also something that is considered old. Collecting dust and webs.

Old. But valuable.