She's lying in the dirt when he stumbles upon her, and for a moment he fears that she's dead.
"Angela?" His voice is a whisper, but the woods are as silent as a grave and she has no trouble hearing him.
"Hello Edward," she says calmly, and he is taken aback. Her mind is perfectly blank, revealing nothing. She pats the ground next to her in the darkness of the clearing and says softly, "Come sit with me."
"Angela, you shouldn't be out here. It's dangerous."
"I heard you hunting," she informs him, sitting up and unscrewing the cap of a thermos. The strong scent of coffee hits him. "I'm not really that afraid." She takes a long pull, and sighs. "I just love it here." When he doesn't reply, she tilts her head back. "I love seeing the sky like this. It's almost like I can touch it."
"Angela," he begins again, but falters. She makes him falter.
"We're so insignificant," she muses, reaching a hand up toward the stars. She stays that way for a moment, and he watches her, entranced. The moonlight is like magic, and it covers them both until her hand comes down, signaling his dismissal. He leaves slowly, with the distinct feeling that something has been done that cannot be undone. He is unsettled, but it is a good unsettling, the kind he thinks he may have been waiting for for almost a hundred years.