Moonlight is an elaborate forgery. It is a mask of might and power, and behind it hides a beautiful thief. For she steals her light from her king. She lies and waits for the sun to hide his countenance. She is simply a reflection of his regency. She is a ghost of her master, who rules her master's realm why he sleeps. She is a puppet queen, I suppose.
The familiar voice drew my eyes from the windowpane, and forced my mind back to reality.
A sigh filled the space between us.
"I've warmed up some soup for you, do you want me to pour it into the flasks?"
A thankful smile flashed across my face.
"No, thank you."
"Suit yourself, dear."
I paused to listen as she wandered out of my room. I tottered over to my mirror and saw the pale, wind beaten face staring back.
My reflection is like my own moon. She is simply a shadow of me.
Having quickly brushed my auburn hair, and coated my lips in salve, I pulled on my hat; wooly and well-worn, and shoved my gloves into the pocket of my nondescript jeans. I hoped that the gilet would be enough to prevent frostbite. I hurried downstairs to the kitchen to grab the flasks, which my mother had filled with the soup despite my dissent, and thrust them into the deep blue rucksack that lay on the kitchen table. I hurried to the door, pulled out my trainers from their place by the radiator and had them on in seconds.
The clock on the wall chimed eight.
I should be back by ten, I thought. I grabbed the spare keys, swung open the door, and stepped out into the night.