A Little Light for the Journey

Aurum had finished lighting the garden path when she noticed that somebody wasn’t following it.

She turned in the evening air.

Beyond the bamboo, the cottage windows glowed. Cups clinked inside. Somewhere, Bam was explaining why a biscuit with a broken edge should be considered a smaller biscuit.

But Ziggy stood at the little bridge.

Quite still.

Aurum drifted back.

“Have you found something?”

“Yes,” said Ziggy.

“What?”

“A reason to stay here.”

The bridge crossed a narrow garden stream.

It was low and sturdy, with a smooth wooden rail and broad boards Quill checked regularly.

That afternoon, Ziggy had crossed it without thinking.

Now the water beneath it had turned dark.

The sound seemed louder.

And the spaces between the boards looked rather more spacious than before.

Aurum hovered beside his shoulder.

“Would you like some light?”

Ziggy nodded.

She swept forward, scattering a bright ribbon of golden sparks from one end of the bridge to the other.

The stream glittered.

The rail shone.

Every tiny gap between the boards became beautifully visible.

Ziggy took half a step backward.

“Oh,” said Aurum.

She let the sparks fade.

For a moment, there was only the water.

Aurum could have flown across in a heartbeat.

She could have circled the garden twice while Ziggy decided where to put his first paw.

Her wings twitched.

She folded that thought away.

“What are you looking at?” she asked.

“The other end.”

“And?”

“It seems a long way from this end.”

Aurum looked across.

Then she looked down at the first board.

She lowered herself until her light rested gently on its edge.

“How about here?”

Ziggy considered the board.

It had a little knot in the wood.

A scratch near the rail.

One pale leaf caught against its side.

He hadn’t noticed those things when he was looking at the whole bridge.

“Just there?”

“If you like.”

“And after that?”

“We can look when we get there.”

Ziggy lifted a paw.

Put it down again.

Aurum waited.

From the cottage came Bam’s voice.

“If I eat both halves, that’s still only one.”

Quill said something they couldn’t quite hear.

Ziggy’s mouth twitched.

Aurum’s did too.

“Do you ever get frightened?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“But you can fly.”

“Wind can fly too,” Aurum said. “Sometimes it has different plans.”

Ziggy looked at her delicate wings.

“What do you do?”

“Find somewhere sheltered. Hold on. Wait for a quieter moment.”

“You don’t keep going?”

“Not always.”

The stream slipped beneath the bridge.

A leaf floated past.

Aurum moved a little closer.

“We can wait here.”

They waited.

A small beetle climbed over a stone.

The bamboo rustled.

One of the cottage windows opened, and warm kitchen air drifted into the garden.

Then Ziggy placed his paw on the first board.

Nothing dramatic happened.

The bridge did not applaud.

The water continued being water.

But his paw was there.

Aurum’s golden light caught the soft black fur around it.

Ziggy looked down.

“Oh.”

She smiled.

“Yes.”

He brought his other paw forward.

Then his back paws.

Now he stood on the bridge.

Aurum drifted beside him.

Not all the way across.

Just beside him.

They stopped again near the little knot in the wood.

Then beside the scratch.

Then where the pale leaf trembled against the rail.

Halfway over, Ziggy looked toward the cottage.

The window seemed nearer.

“Is this slow?”

“It’s how fast we’re going.”

He considered that.

Then he took another step.

At the far end, Ziggy stepped onto the garden stones and turned around.

The bridge looked small again.

He wasn’t entirely sure how it managed that.

Aurum settled on the wooden post beside him.

Her wings rested, silver in the twilight.

“I crossed it,” he said.

“You did.”

“With help.”

“Yes.”

Ziggy looked at her.

“You didn’t tell me to hurry.”

Aurum tilted her head.

“Were we late for something?”

From inside came a sudden clatter.

Then Bam called, “Nothing’s broken!”

A pause.

“Nothing important!”

Ziggy sighed.

“Possibly.”

They reached the cottage together.

Quill opened the door.

“There you are. We saved your places.”

Bam looked up from the table.

“I saved you a biscuit.”

Quill glanced at his plate.

“You saved him half a biscuit.”

“It was a difficult evening.”

Ziggy climbed into his chair.

Aurum settled nearby, her golden light making a little warm circle on the table.

“Thank you,” Ziggy told her.

“For the light?”

“For staying.”

Aurum’s wings gave a small, pleased shimmer.

Later, when she checked the garden before bed, she paused at the bridge.

She left one tiny spark glowing beside the first board.

Then she flew home.