A voice trailed from far off in the moon-shadowed slopes. It twisted and echoed, the words beyond decipher; voice sometimes seeming singular, sometimes multiple, until finally, it separated and cohered into two voices. Arguing. Approaching. The trees swayed low and dark birds arrowed so fast amongst the bare branches, I could not catch one full in my sight. The whole winter forest wavering before me as in a heat mirage. Or so it appeared, before I understood that in fact all was still. That what I was seeing was the movement of shadows, as a lantern floated through the forest:
