She is alive in the vast sea of darkness. She shines, her back straight and her arms high. Her bow shimmers and her arrows sparkle, and I allow myself to believe that she never left. Her face is haughty, her stance is proud. She is a Hunter, one of my own.
The dots are so close together. I might think she was riding along with me.
My face shines with my moon. If I look down, I can see my cabin glow silver. If I keep my eyes where they are and look, I would still be able to see her. I do not allow myself to glance anywhere but there. She always looked so young.
So do I.
Why is it the night suddenly looks blurry? Why is it the clouds suddenly decide to rain? Why is it that I do not care? I simply look forward, right where I placed her.
When I pass by her, I reach out.
With the conviction of a mother caring for her child, I cry, "I am so proud of you."
It was not the only thing I cried out.
Would it not be uncharacteristic of me as a goddess to feel so strongly for a child? A child that is not my own? I miss her so much. I want to believe that she is here with me. I am a goddess, it occurs to me. I want her breathing. Why is it not so that she is, if I wish it so?
Perhaps if I waited a few centuries more, the pain in my chest will flicker out. Maybe sometime. But not tonight.
She is alive in the vast sea of darkness. She shines, and so do my tears.