The Fall of Falcon Scott (24)

Standing on the battlement and peering into the cold darkness beyond, Sunny had a contemplative expression on his face. The wind smelled of snow as it played with his black hair, which had grown a bit too long by now. Pale moonlight permeated the air, failing to reach the ravaged land.

Winter and Dale were sitting nearby, leaning on the alloy parapet of the wall and sharing a flask. The two captains seemed calm — one in her usual relaxed manner, the other solemn and staid. As the contents of the flask ran out, Winter sighed and looked at Sunny.

"You seem terribly serious today."

He lingered for a moment, then shrugged.

"Just thinking about stuff."

She did not press, content to rest with her eyes hidden behind the cracked sunglasses.

Sunny felt strangely thoughtful after his conversation with Saint Tyris.

He was not sure that he agreed with her uncompromising views, but there was one thing Sky Tide had said that was unquestionably true.

Life was, indeed, unpredictable.