A Breath of Night

It was summer – very late summer – and darkness had been creeping up into the sky earlier and earlier for many weeks now. And for the first time in many weeks, when the sun was entirely swallowed by the night, the air had a certain distinct chill. It was a chill that shocked you — one you’d forgotten the sensation of. You had begun to take for granted the bright summer nights, where the air is sticky and warm, and here was the rude awakening. Your body feels it before you do — a crack in your lips, an ache on your bare shoulders. Only when your skin prickles with goosebumps do you realise that summer, ever so quietly and politely, has begun to die. 

On this particular night, that very chill was busy snaking its way through the trees — creeping through the branches and stripes of shadows and moonbeams. It was following something — for it had heard a sound not heard from within this forest in a very, very long time. 

It had heard laughter. 

And it was growing restless. The wind chased the giggles through the forest, leaving a trail of fallen leaves and twigs in its wake, until it found them — a group of young girls dancing and playing in the moonlight. The wind approached cautiously. One of the girls was sitting by the water, chewing her dirt–caked fingernails. It began to play curiously with her hair, making her braids twirl and ripple in the cool air. It danced on her skin, leaving clusters of goosebumps on her shoulders. When she shivered slightly and rubbed her neck, it moved onto the next girl, satisfied. It waited for acknowledgement from her, too, but most of the girls didn’t seem to notice the cold air. 

The girls worked together, mostly in silent concentration, grinning and mumbling half-sentences to each other occasionally. Quickly, an ornate scene emerged before them. 

The chaotic chatter from the rest of the girls ceased as a breathless voice called from deeper inside the forest. 

“Guys! Look what I found!” the voice shouted, the sound of footsteps on damp leaves growing louder. A girl burst out from the thicket, her face glistening, eyes wild with excitement. The bottom of her shirt was bundled up in her arms, wrapped carefully around a strangely shaped object. Murmurs and hums of curiosity bounced around the group as they crowded the girl, versions of “show us!” and “what is it?” echoing through the night.

She knelt in the dirt, a glint in her eye as she carefully unwrapped the bundle in her arms, laying it down gently on the ground. The other girls gripped each other by the arms excitedly, scrambling to be the first to get a good look.

A perfectly intact snake skeleton, skull and all, lay before them. 

She furrowed her brow, staring deeply, and began to rearrange. Moving aside a few rocks and dried flowers, and brushing the pattern away with the side of her hand, she created a blank circle in the middle of their creation. The girls all exchanged knowing smiles. They knew exactly what to do. They gathered around, forming a circle and gripping each other’s hands. They were silent for a moment, their eyes shut, before whispers broke out between them. The whispering grew louder and louder, until they were shouting to hear over each other. 

Suddenly, the shouting ceased.

The wind did not even notice it had retreated and was hiding in the treetops, watching from afar. The girls confused the wind — they unsettled it. They were so erratic, so clumsy, yet somehow so intentional and calculated. And their sudden silence was overwhelming, echoing louder through the forest than the shouting had just moments before. The wind watched them, peeking closer as they continued to stand silently, their eyes still closed and their shiny, plump faces flushed red. They seemed almost peaceful right now.

The wind, it decided, could not be scared of these small things. After all, they were only living creatures, and the wind was older than the earth itself. Feeling brave, playful even, he darted out from the treetops and dove down, plummeting towards the still group of girls and their creation in the sand. 

The tallest girl, the one who had found the snake skeleton, whipped her head towards the sky as her eyes shot open, her gaze precise and her face expressionless.

Terrified, the wind faltered, tripping over itself, falling off its path and plummeting into the darkness. For a second, as it tumbled through the air, it had a terrifying thought. But then, the thought ceased, as did the wind itself, and the air was still. 

The rest of the girls slowly began to open their eyes and look around at each other, blinking almost as if they had been asleep. The snake skeleton was gone. They smiled at each other, and then they went back to playing.

One girl began to build a sandcastle on the dirty riverbank, while another made mud pies garnished with twigs and worms. A few of the girls were lying on their backs in the grass, telling each other stories about made-up constellations. 

The air was warm. Sticky, even. It was a beautiful summer night. A sharp chorus of laughter exploded into the air.