Night fell in bits and pieces. First, over the pine trees and the conifers on the ridge, exposing the faintest pricks of light dusted over an injured sky. It then fell out on the other side where beyond the dusk-colored river the meadow stretched out to the hunched mountains, and finally it caved in directly overhead, leaving a clear path for the moon to lope along.  They would say it was a little too cold, not as comfortable as it could be, but at least the bugs weren’t biting. They would say a lot of things that night.

Marla crouched by the river, touching the fingertips of her left hand to the cold bite of its water and concentrating only on that sensation, her eyes glazed with moonlight; blind to the bright lines that meteors burned into the dense fabric above. Her pale skin had been untouched all that day, and no more freckles sprung up over the bridge of her nose and her cheeks than had always been there. The moon mistook her for a pixie with her twisted and tangled red hair. It admired her for most of its trek above The Valley, and near dawn would hang above the horizon a bit longer than it should have.

Nik and Mia, at the campfire a few strides from the river also watched her as they leaned back against the packs they carried on their journey. Nik stroked the grass between his bent legs, his free arm wrapped around Mia’s shoulders. Their heads leaned together and dull blonde hair mixed in with equally dull brown.

“Do you miss coffee?” Mia asked. Her voice was quiet. It was only appropriate that they preserve as much of the natural silence they could.

“No. Do you?”

“I think it’s hard to miss something you never desired in the first place.”

“Don’t lie. You needed a cup every morning to get up and go to work.”

“And you didn’t?”

“Fine, neither of us miss coffee.” Nik muttered, unable to hide a smile. They stopped talking for a few minutes, and Nik thought about the original question. Maybe he missed the slight rush, in that way he also missed soda, watching football games with his friends, that surging mob mentality at the live games. He knew Mia missed the smell of clean laundry. But he also knew they had both grown to love the tired ache in their muscles after a long day of walking, and how quickly they could pass into sleep because of it.

Mia did not miss her nightmares, the ones where her fellow employees crowded in on her; their heads melting, antennae sprouting from their temples, and a hideous buzz pouring from their shifting mouths, making her ears bleed. Nik did not miss his menial job; the long hours, the mental and emotional exhaustion, the overwhelming desire to let the world know that Marx was right, and the revolution was going to come. Even if he had to start it himself. Marla did not miss her childhood and its demons reflected in every face she scanned while walking down a sidewalk.

They had one bottle of wine left, and Nik removed it from one of the packs to take a swig, and pass it on to Mia.

“Nik, did we run away or did we escape?” Mia spoke, nails clinking against the wine bottle.

“Both, but that doesn’t matter.”

“And where will we go for the winter?”

Nik was about to ask if Mia wanted to perhaps play twenty questions, prepared to stifle a sarcastic tone, when the answer to her question came from a few yards away. A pale face grinning back at the moon.

“We go south,” Marla said.

I raised up a hand as if I could grab the lights and pull them down to my dazzled eyes. I’m sure I was grinning foolishly at the stars. Scientists say sun flares. I say art, watching pink and green satin get dragged through the night sky by invisible cosmic fingertips. The fireflies in the field blinked enviously at their celestial counter parts and the river of color they drifted in.