Submission (#869) Approved

“I think I saw them over there,” Rune hissed in his ear, breath coming hard and fast at Mahou’s ear.

“C’mon then,” Mahou urged, flicking an impatient ear.

They raced past cobbled streets that wound around picturesque hobbles and multi-floor stone housing cradled by gardens laden with the riotous colors of a dozen species of flowers, cast into greyish light by the poor lighting.  The moon and stars had been plucked from the sky this night to leave nothing but the object of the pair’s current interest.  The lights that whizzed by overhead – faint, at this distance, but growing brighter with every step.  Like tattered comets, so small as to be harmless, bursting forth into a rainbow of light.  On their backs, the empty firefly jars tinkled with the motion of their movement.

The cobblestone path faded and, underfoot, the ground softened into packed earth, edged by bushes laden with roses, orchids, buds, inflorescences, and colors imitating the famed faerie shrouds that could be found growing wild in the region.  The folkloric, almost magical, feeling of the quaint small town faded into green green fields of grass tall enough to completely obscure the two kittoms if they were to stray from the ground path carved through the fields.

They paused once they crested the hill.  Eyes wide and searching then.  The grass rustled in the wind.  The darkness of the sky swallowed any light, obscuring everything but for faint sheens of colored light.  Their ears perked as if they could catch the sound of the light sputtering to the ground.  Their heads swiveled almost in unison as they searched the fields – both grassy and wild, and those tamed down and tempered to wield the crops Faerindell was known for to catch even a glimpse of the streaking colors – pink, blue, red, orange, green, seafoam, mint, purple – crackling and fading to nothing.

“Do you see one?” Rune started, but Mahou started, stepped forward.

“There!” they urged, bursting forth.

Rune hesitated for only a breath, eyes wide, seeing Mahou’s pads working against the ground, pushing forward, before he too, moved.  A strangled cry that might have been Mahou’s name burst from his throat, before it was utterly drowned out in the rush of movement – in the soft thudding of their feet on the earth, the weaving of their bodies against the grass, the excited burst of breath working past their lungs.

And almost as soon as it started, all sound and movement stopped.  Mahou stared wide eyed at what loomed before them – for it looked to be nothing but light.  Something that looked to come straight from Silveil – though they had never been, perhaps, would never be.  It was something like motes of light – dust bunnies clotted together – but pure light.  The one before him shone a soft lilac, and the light seemed to putter.  Spit and crackle like a flame, but instead of growing, it shrunk with every bubbling.

They didn’t need Rune’s urgings to get to work.  As fast as they could manage, Mahou pulled the emptied mason jar that once briefly held fireflies a week ago, and set to work at trying to catch the light.  While this was not quite fireflies, the process proved similar.  They darted forward, with sudden frenetic speed and snatched at the fading light, quickly turning the jar so it would not bubble out.

And no sooner was the jar straightened that Rune smashed downwards with a lid.  Haphazardly slammed on the jar so it was lopsided – one side snapped clean, the other jutting at an angle that would never be called closed.  Despite this, they both leaned forward then, watching the light drift and spark within the jar.

“Cool,” Rune breathed.

Mahou smiled, nodding.  Wondering if the fizzling light would last within the safety of the jar, or if it would still fade to nothing.