Seated in the Moonlight
Sonata disliked the rain. She never used to, as her culture placed a great importance upon its coming. But ever since she’d been living with Sunset, she’d come to associate it with her injury. She sat or lay on her cot, feeling weak and woozy, whilst the monumental downpour outside crashed onto the softening ground. During these times, she’d often see Sunset seated at the small stone altar, silently praying, or whatever it was she did. Sonata would often sit for minutes at a time, simply wondering what it was Sunset did or hoped to achieve, sitting in front of the little figures and twins points of light that were the tiny flames either side of the altar.
Sonata didn’t know if it was just in her mind, but she began to feel her scars hurting her whenever it threatened rain, but felt nothing when the burning sunlight returned. Within just a few weeks, her injury had faded to a pinkish scar, blemishing her pale, dusky-blue skin, but she paid it no mind at all. Her strength grew steadily, and to Sunset’s consternation, rediscovered a love for energetic exercise.
“If your shoulder hurts you again,” Sunset called, “I formally refuse to help you.”
Sonata ignored her, holding onto the tree-branch she dangled from and trying to gauge the distance.
“Don’t you dare jump into that water,” Sunset warned. “That’s our drinking—“
SPLASH!
“Why do you not listen to me?” Sunset sighed exasperatedly.
“Sorry,” Sonata said, ringing out her long azure hair. “I used to love doing that back home.”
As they both walked back with jars full of water, Sunset spoke. “Jumping into the village’s water supply?”
“No,” Sonata giggled, shoving Sunset playfully. “Into the lake. My sisters and I did it all the time.”
Sunset frowned. “There’re no lakes around here.”
“There is back home,” Sonata said wistfully. “It’s not that big, but it’s deep. My sisters used to tell all the other children there were lake monsters. Then once they had the idea of getting this big clump of weed and crawling out of the lake to scare everyone.”
Sunset smiled as Sonata beamed at the memory. “Your sisters sound like a fun lot.”
“Some people thought they went too far sometimes,” Sonata conceded. “But it was all in good fun really. Made the village elder really mad once and he threatened to have us banished.”
Sonata erupted into laughter, trying in vain to continue the story, but Sunset didn’t manage to get anything more intelligible between the snorts and guffawing.
“You must miss your sisters a lot,” Sunset said companionably. “I dare say it’ll be a relief to see them again.”
Sonata suddenly stopped walking. When Sunset paused to look back, the other continued, and seemed to make an effort to appear as though nothing had happened.
“I don’t think we’ll ever see each other again,” she said in a far more sober voice. “I can’t go back to my village.”
“Do you not know the way back?” Sunset asked. “When you said that there was a lake near to your home, I imagined it must be far away.”
“It’s not that,” Sonata said, her gaze on the moist earth beneath their feet. She did not elaborate, and Sunset did not ask more.
As often happened, Sonata found herself simply exploring the surrounding landscape of Sunset’s home, for lack of anything better to do. On this particular day, she chanced upon a structure that, like Sunset’s home, was built into a natural formation. In this case, between several thick-trunked, very dead trees. The clay had been painted with some sort of greyish daub, giving it the same colour and hue as the dead wood it was affixed to. On one side of it however, was a sort of tarp that swung to one side to reveal a storage space. Several pots and tools lay stacked neatly on the sides of the interior space, along with a sack or two full of dried foods.
Sonata was surprised by this discovery, and wondered if she could discover any other structures Sunset had forged.
It took her almost an hour, but eventually, she found the mythical garden that she’d been unable to find before. To her personal shame, she discovered it not too far behind the two-stones, situated in a rough square lined in on side by a row of trees, and a half-buried rock perpendicular to it. Here, she also found Sunset.
“So this is where it is,” Sonata said, feeling rather proud of herself.
Sunset looked up. “Yes. Been doing anything useful?”
“To my way of thinking, yes,” Sonata said, determinately not meeting Sunset’s eye.
“I see that your stamina is stronger in returning. That’s good. I was just thinking that I should pack you some food for your journey.”
Sonata hesitated. “Oh. Right,” she said eventually. “Thanks, yeah.”
“Did you see any dried fruit in the storage shed?” Sunset asked.
Sonata jumped a little. “How did you know I went in there?”
“I saw you,” Sunset replied, as though this should be obvious.
“Mm,” Sonata hmphed.
Sonata found herself feeling discomforted by the short conversation. She’d not given it a great deal of thought over the previous month or so, but was suddenly faced with the realisation that she was – in all reality – intruding upon Sunset’s hospitality. She was a visitor, taken in by Sunset’s good will and generous nature. But it was inherently temporary, tied directly to how long it took her to heal.
When all came down to it though, Sonata found that she really didn’t want to leave. Serious and quiet as she was, she found that she liked being around Sunset. She found that she liked being in the little two-stone house. She liked the way things were. And what was more, she had nowhere else to go. Certainly not back to her old village, and her old name...
But she couldn’t just ask Sunset if she could stay. How rude, how assuming that would be, to take advantage of her in that way, especially when it was clear that Sunset had come out to live in this lonely and secluded place specifically to be alone. She couldn’t ruin that for her; Sonata had no right to. She couldn’t possibly ask...
All the rest of the day, she moved deliberately out of Sunset’s way as the golden-skinned hermit made her way around the territory. Sometimes, Sonata would watch what she was doing from hidden places, trying to figure out what her benefactor was doing. It didn’t make for happy viewing.
At one point she observed Sunset putting together what was evidently a water-bottle made from cloth and a hollowed out hard vegetable. At another time, she saw Sunset using a large stick to make some kind of pattern in the ground some twenty feet away from the house. As she did so, she frequently looked up into the sky. Perhaps Sonata was simply being paranoid, but she rather thought Sunset was on the lookout for more rainclouds, maybe so that she could be sure she was sending Sonata off in clement weather conditions.
All-in-all, it was with a leaden weight in her stomach that Sonata sat down to dinner with Sunset. She found herself paying closer attention to the taste of the food, and considering that she hadn’t really appreciated just how good the cooking was until that moment.
“How did you make the bread?” she asked.
“With the kiln,” Sunset said, jabbing a thumb through the left-facing wall.
“You have a kiln?”
“It’s nestled a little into the stones, but yes.” She watched Sonata for a few moments, and then exhaled. “I’m probably going to regret this, but you’ve been oddly quiet all day. Is there something wrong?”
“No,” Sonata said quickly. “Just... I know you don’t like too many questions.”
Sunset’s lip curled a little. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like your conversation. Anyway, I hope you saved room for dessert.”
“We have dessert?” Sonata asked, perking up a little.
“Just some dried fruit. I find they taste better with this oil I have. I thought perhaps we should celebrate your relative return to full health.”
Sonata tried to smile, but wasn’t sure she quite managed it. Sunset didn’t seem to notice, and stood up.
“Come on, I want to show you something.”
Leading Sonata outside, Sunset made her way to the markings she’d made earlier. Sonata wondered how she could see it in the dark of night, but noticed that the entire ground was illuminated with a faint, silvery light, showing the magical-looking markings perfectly.
“Excellent,” Sunset said in a gratified voice, staring up. “Not a cloud anywhere. Come on.”
“W-Where?” Sonata asked, as Sunset marched passed her. “Wait, what are these markings?”
“You’ll see. Just follow me. I wanted you to see this before you left.”
Sonata followed, unwilling to say anything lest she let slip what she was truly feeling. Sunset led her to the one side of the two-stones, where Sonata was mildly surprised to find the kiln Sunset had previously mentioned. Much like the storage shed, it had been crudely painted to blend in with the orangey stone at the back of the monolithic rock. Picking up a string-bag, Sunset began to climb the leaning face of the enormous stone, up what Sonata saw upon closer examination, was a natural formation of indentations.
“It’s just up here. Can you manage?” Sunset asked over her shoulder.
“Yes,” Sonata replied, trying to smile.
Far from wondering what it was Sunset wanted to show her, Sonata couldn’t help dwelling on the morning, when she would surely be expected to leave. So intent on this was she that, upon reaching the top, she didn’t immediately register that Sunset had sat herself down, and was regarding Sonata with her usual unfathomable stare.
Catching her eye, Sonata immediately sat down.
“I didn’t know you could get up here,” she said, running a hand over the weathered surface of the rock. They were seated at the upper-most point of the fallen stone, its twin looming behind them like some dark parody of a sunrise.
“I only infrequently come up here,” Sunset explained. “But when I do, it’s mainly for the view. And to escape the lions.”
Sonata looked up absently, wondering vaguely wheat she meant. And then froze, her eyes widening.
Having gotten used to the landscape as a dry, dusty yellow and orange flatland, dotted once in a while with vegetation and the furtive movements of small animals, Sonata had never imagined the land could be anything else. But it was now.
Across the empty vista the sandy golds and harsh whites of the intense sun had been replaced by lapis blue and a shimmering silver. The full moon looked like an opal in the midst of a vast, cosmic sapphire. The vast expanse of the plain in its stark difference from its daytime self reminded Sonata of a time in her childhood.
“It’s like that rock,” she breathed.
“I’m sorry?” Sunset asked politely. “That sounded as though it should have been profound. I fear it didn’t come off that way.”
Sonata blushed.
“When I was a girl, some of the children in my village and I went to this cave we knew on the other side of the lake. We explored there a lot, but this one time there was a cave-in, and a friend and me got stuck on the other side. I was knocked out in the falling, and when I woke up, there was this stone right in front of me, broken and glittering in the little bit of sunlight shining through the rocks.” She gazed out over the landscape. “The elders called it a geode. It was the same colour as all of this,” she said, holding a hand up to the moon. “The middle was white and silvery, and the bit around it was inky blue, while the outer bits were dark blue with little black bits. Like those trees,” she went on, pointing.
“I’m glad you survived the cave-in,” Sunset said solemnly, but then smiling a little knowingly. “You seem to have a knack for injuring yourself.”
Sonata gave a nervous little laugh. “Yeah, well. My friend was more hurt than I was. He hurt his head, but his parents came quickly and helped us, so I think he was okay.” She sighed deeply. “But I thought about that rock for a long time. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I wanted it more than anything I had ever wanted before.”
“Didn’t you keep it?” Sunset asked.
Sonata shook her head. “The elders traded it a few months later for some carpets. All precious things in our village were kept in the meeting hall so no one could steal them. We were only permitted to keep one thing for ourselves that was precious in that way.”
Sonata half expected Sunset to inquire what that thing was, but if the other wondered about it, she didn’t voice it.
“I’m glad I could show this to you,” Sunset said. “It doesn’t happen too often in the rainy season, since there’re usually clouds. I thought that it’d cheer you out of your bad mood.” She smiled at Sonata’s abashed expression. “You know, if you really want to stay, I could always make you a bed.”
Sonata thought for one mad second that her heart was going to turn inside out.
“I can stay!? You really mean it!?”
“With the proviso that you not topple us both off of this rock, yes,” Sunset said, pushing a finger hard against Sonata’s forehead as the latter attempted to throw herself onto her. “And, just so long as I don’t end up regretting the decision. Now eat some dried fruit, and lets enjoy the vi—”
“You won’t, I promise!” Sonata cried, squealing a little as she pushed the finger out of the way and pulled Sunset into a very one-sided hug. “This is so great! We can go swimming, run across the plains, and catch those little mouse things I keep seeing, every day!”
“No, we’re not doing that,” Sunset said flatly.
“Aww, come on, it’ll be fun,” Sonata assured her, squeezing her tighter.
“Ahh, regret, my old friend,” Sunset groaned. “How have you been?”
Sonata giggled, and then stopped, frowning.
“Wait, lions?”