“I have my reasons. Now go to sleep.”
“But I can’t do it by myself. I can’t be Alpha one day if I have to do it by myself.” My voice is quiet but undeniably laced with panic.
“You’ll be a good Alpha when the time comes, Sammy. You’re… dependable. Like a big, sturdy, orange rock.”
I huff. “Please?”
“No. But I’ll still be around to piss you off.”
“Great… I can’t wait,” I reply dryly.
The following day, we get bundled up and prepare for a full day in the snow. It’s thick when we step outside the cabin; each step goes up to our ankles. We trudge through the snow towards a group of ten or so people standing around a row of snowmobiles.
Mr Bushy-beard from last night has a clipboard he appears to be ticking people's names off on. He gives us a brief nod of acknowledgement before continuing.
After a safety demonstration and triple-checking that we all have everything we need, a short but incredibly loud woman who introduces herself as Bea starts organising us into pairs. Noah and I are at the front behind Mr Bushy-beard, with the loud lady remaining at the back of the group.
We hurtle through the snow, powder whipping up into the air surrounding us like little white tornadoes. A few people behind us begin whooping as we pick up more speed.
It’s a beautiful day for it. The sky is a bright blue, and the snow and ice would be blinding without sunnies on.
When we break through the wooded area, my mouth drops open. A huge, never-ending expanse of white before us. The snowmobiles glide through the ice and snow, the engine rumbling beneath me.
We eventually pull up to another set of cabins. Bea gives us each a set of keys and tells us to meet back at the larger cabin for dinner at six pm.
Dinner is a raucous affair, with twelve of us helping ourselves to a giant pot of hearty stew. It makes me feel oddly homesick. One thing Iamlooking forward to when I get home is cooking a big dinner for my family and pack, everyone talking over each other so loudly you can’t think. It’s funny how you end up missing things that sometimes drive you mad.
The food is a little salty but enjoyable all the same. Noah wolfs down enough to feed a small family and gets a few funny looks from the others. After we’ve finished, Noah and I offer to help with the cleanup while some of the others pull out a deck of cards as we wait for the evening excursion.
A short while later, Bea returns and stomps the snow off her boots in the entryway. “Everything’s ready if you want to get wrapped up and meet us out front in fifteen?” she asks.
We all leap to our feet, evidently excited for the trip, hustling and bustling to get our thick coats, hats and gloves on. It’s so dark outside that the stars are vivid in the sky. I’ve never seen so many. The longer my eyes adjust to the lack of light, the more I begin to see huge clusters of stars that form the Milky Way.
It’s… breathtaking. Like getting a peek at the sky's secrets.
The snowmobile rumbles to life underneath me, and I follow Noah as we head further into the Talkeetna Mountains.
With nothing but the lights from our snowmobiles and head torches, the journey gets darker and darker until it’s… not anymore.
It begins as a soft glow, light reflecting off the snow and ice below.
When I tilt my head to see above me, I'm almost overwhelmed. The stars in the sky are lit up by green glimmers of light that dance like a flame. Dance like they’re elated to be here.
I’ve seen photographs of the Northern Lights, but none of them dothisright here any justice whatsoever. I’m sad that my mum didn’t get to see them on her trip; the time of year and weather didn’t pan out for her.
We all disembark, and the group is silent. Everyone has their faces tipped up to the sky, relishing the beautiful phenomenon. I hope that wherever she is, if she’s in the sky, that she can see what I’m seeing right now.
I’m suddenly struck by a memory that had faded into the back of my mind. I was maybe six years old because Con and Niamh were only just toddling around like tiny, unstable drunks. Mum had woken me up and wrapped me in a coat before carrying me out to the car. She told me we were going on a little adventure, just the two of us. We drove for a while, Mum playing aFleetwood MacCD as I stared out of the window, still a bit dazed from sleep. The further we drove, the darker it got. But I wasn’t scared; I was never scared with Mum.
When she parked up and we got out of the car, Mum grabbed a flask and some blankets before taking my hand and leading me into what appeared to be a random, totally dark field.
It was summer, but we were still in England, so it wasn’t warm. Mum laid one blanket down and put one over our knees. She poured what I could now smell to be hot chocolate into the lid of the flask as a makeshift mug and passed it to me. I took abig sip, enjoying the sweet, warm drink that I was rarely allowed to indulge in.
“What are we doin’ here, Mummy?” I asked her. She let out a breathy chuckle.
“Look up, baby,” she said quietly.
I did as she asked. The sky was filled with stars—more than I had ever seen before. Then, after a moment, one appeared to shoot across the sky.
