That night, it was with some trepidation she quietly opened the door and stepped out.
And gasped.
The world had been thickly blanketed in the purest white she had ever seen. The clouds had vanished, and the moon shone brilliantly above the frosted village.
Everything glittered like it diamond dust, sparkling in a blazing silver blue brightness that rivaled that of midday.
She had never seen anything like it.
The inner storm died, forgotten, as she stood and marveled at the exquisite beauty before her. Even the crude fences and carts were made works of art by the snow.
Without thinking she raised her eyes heavenward and thanked God for allowing her to see it.
It was with wonder she set off, feet crunching through the mantle with each step. It made no difference to her, everything around her was a delight, seen for the first time. Strongly she was reminded of her first appearance in this world, everything had the same sense of newness.
Despite the footing, she hurried. She had a sudden longing to see the chapel so lovingly decorated.
As she neared, the ever present sense of Czernobog and his ilk grew, but it was always there, and unless they began something she could not seek them out. She hoped they would not. Quickly she spirited her way through the woods, as she always did, through the back of the property, around the tree line, and to the front.
But she dared not step out of the trees. Unlike before, she realized that very clear evidence of her presence there would be left behind, captured in snow. Still, she got as close as she could, so as to see the chapel.
"Oh…"
The involuntary sigh came out and she covered her mouth with one hand.
The chapel had been turned into something even Byzantium would envy. Beneath the luminous moon the simple stone and wooden structure had been covered in jewels and a sparkling cloth-of-silver blanket. It glowed with a soft silvery-blue effulgence, seeming to radiate the peace and love that so many looked to it to provide.
If only everyone could see it as she saw it. They would never doubt the truth of her God again.
She stood and stared and stared, drinking it in with her eyes, for hours.
With some surprise, and something of a pang, she realized the glow was fading, dying away until only a dull light grey remained. She looked upward in trepidation, and saw that the moon was simply obscured by more thick, heavy clouds. And, as she watched, the first snowflake she had ever seen floated gently down. Soon the air was filled with them, not so many that she could not see, but enough to make it seem truly magical to her.
Even so, the clouds were not so thick that the moon was entirely covered, and she peeked out from time to time, setting everything alight with silver fire. It was the sun dancing on the river, but all around her.
Trusting that the snow would be heavy enough to obscure any evidence of her having been there, she nervously stepped out into the open churchyard. After one last look around, she spread her arms wide and invited the snow to her.
A playful wind picked up, nipping at her skirts and tugging at her hair, a mischievous child wanting her to join in on the fun.
So she did.
Following the currents of the wind, she began to dance, understanding for the first time, the joy in simply losing oneself to a simple pleasure. There was no purpose to the graceful whirling, the smooth gestures, only happiness at being part of something so marvelous. Soon she found herself laughing, snowflakes kissing her cheeks, her eyes, her lips. Her hands swirled the air around her, and the snow followed them, chasing her fingers like puppies.
Suddenly there was a crack, and a whoosh, and a thud. With a gasp she spun around to see a section of snow break away from the roof of the chapel and crash to the ground.
Had that been loud enough to wake him?
Turning she sprinted for the trees and soon took refuge among them. He would not be able to see her hiding here should he awaken.
What had she been thinking? Dancing? When she was guarding the very soul of her charge?
Stoically, she began marching around the church, keeping carefully to the shadows of the trees, and determined not to be lulled by the call of the snow again.