In a forest not far from here, wrapped in an eternal sheet of snow, a white cat walks deeper into the darkness. Only by the shadows falling into pawprints left in the snow can she be spotted.

She makes her way to a clearing, where the fractured sunlight turns whole again. Snow dwindles down, caressed by the wind before the flakes vanish into the ground. In the middle of the clearing lies a pond, the sparkling water as clear and bright as the joyous spirit of a child.

The cat walks up to the edge and stares into the water. Sunlight bounces on the waves, sparkling brighter even than the stars. She bends her head down and puts her paw in the water. To her surprise, the water is warm, gentle, inviting. She looks up again to find a statue of a woman at the other side of the pond.

The statue is holding her hands out in front of her, palms up. Her gaze is cast upwards, stone eyes looking towards the sky. The pine trees behind it have tied themselves to the statue, supporting her arms and mending her cracks. A doe sits in front of the statue, the dwindling snow leaving white spots on her back. She bows her head down in greeting.

The cat makes her way around the pond, unshaken by the cold. She takes a seat next to the doe and looks up at the statue.

Have you come to rest, little one?

The voice comes from the direction of the doe, but it carries such weight, such gravity that it must be more than the voice of a lonesome animal. The cat does not answer, instead she swings her tail slowly, unconsciously trying to snatch a snowflake out of the sky.

I didn't expect you to join us so soon.

The cat turns to the doe, whose brown eyes are looking up at the statue. The statue's eyes are blank, made from the same weathered stone as the rest of it, but they carry a certain glimmer, hidden away in rock.

"It's been such a struggle, these last few lives," says the cat.

It has, indeed. But you've come so far, too.

The doe gets up, shaking the snow out from her fur, though the white spots on her back remain. She moves closer to the cat and lies down, lying closely to her small beating heart.

"I'm scared."

The doe rests her head next to the paws of the sitting cat, gently nudging her to lie down.

"Scared that even if things will get better, I will never be able to free myself from the grief of time that has been lost."

The wind has picked up, causing the snowflakes to be thrown to the side, into the shadows lurking between the trees. The branches surrounding the statue creak, but hold the statue in place for now.

I can feel the light inside you. If even now, your light can shine through layers and layers of stone and shadow, imagine how brightly you can shine when you are free.

"But what if the world isn't ready for that?"

Then we will blind them together.

The cat lies down against the doe, the warmth making her realise just how cold she has gotten.

Fear is a natural result. Especially after what you have endured, little one.

The cat rests her head in the snow, closing her eyes. She takes a deep breath, letting a snowflake fall on her tongue.

Do you wish to rest, still? Or do you simply not wish to travel further?

"I'm not sure."

You do not have to answer now, but you do need to carry on. You cannot stay here. Please try to walk. Even if you cannot run, walk.

The cat stretches her legs, pushing her back against the doe. Her heavy heart springs to life, still worn down, but a little less so.

Hold on to that spark, little one, hold onto it with all your might, and then things will turn out all right.

The cat opens her eyes again and is struck by a sheer cold. No deer warms her fur, and what moments before she thought was a statue now seems to be only a cracked tree. She gets up, takes one last look at the sparkling water, and walks back to the other side of the pond, taking the way she came and leaving the clearing behind, for good.