A single, bright star was his guide that particular eve; and a speck of white was its twin sister, an owl with silver painted upon her wings. The light dwarfed all the other stars, dwarfed his memory of the moon, and somehow cast the pre-winter darkness into something resembling light—every gilded leaf turned argent. Peace had settled upon the sea of lavender, frost-lined stalks gleaming like little crystals and their frozen crowns grayed out. It was beautiful, almost like snow, except.. without the snow. He snorted faintly under his breath, white rising like a salutation to the bright star, and he kept following its light. Any other direction but the one it pointed him in seemed duller, darker somehow. Sometimes the most fantastical things happened when you followed your heart—or so they said. He really hadn't tried that often.

Soon, he became aware of his destination. Irma canted her wings down, dropped like a falling star from the navy depths of the sky; she made a rude swipe towards a robin, but veered away with an oddly light-hearted screech. Mauja was baffled. It was probably the first time Irma had gone after something without the intention of actually killing it.

The robin winged away with a mildly affronted look, but Irma simply laughed within her mind. It had never been in any danger from the snowy predator, who, instead, simply settled for grabbing a silvered cone off the ground and taking it into the sky. Mauja shook his head at her, and trotted up to the old, thick tree. Others had already converged there, and some he recognized—Locket, mostly, whom he gave a nod to in passing, and then he spotted Silk and Circuta as well. Still, he did not feel particularly social, despite the overall mood of calm. Instead, as Irma bickered in a bird's way (mostly by jostling her wings) with some of the smaller avians while putting up her deocration, he approached the base of the ancient tree, touching one of its roots fondly.

Sometimes he wondered, if peace wouldn't be so bad.

But then he always remembered that his restless soul had teeth.

And Ulrik was standing nearby. Definitely not the time to contemplate peace. His heart skipped a beat; he didn't want a confrontation now. He didn't want to search his soul for answers now.

Ironically, all he wanted was some damned peace on this night. From everyone—himself included.

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