The Bright Sun of Morning

A flock of crows scattered in the dawn light, a handful of ashes cast into the air, settling around into stillness once again on branches away from the one they had been previously occupying.

Having ejected its previous occupants, Fendegist settled himself down in the pine tree to watch the sun rise over the horizon. In the early morning mist, his fur-hung bulk cast no shadow on the ground below him, only splashing black onto the gnarled trunk that supported his back and mass of matted black hair.

From high in the tree, set up on the edge of this hanging valley, high on the mountainside he could see across the dark-wooded valleys of his kingdom below him. They swam in winter mists that had crept up from the near-frozen rivers below, pine trees suspended in a sea of grey dawn, mists that even now were beginning to lift and evaporate into the nothingness, like the ice crystals of his breath, revealing the shining whiteness of the snow beneath.

Eastwards across the valley, the sun peeped out over the mountains and gradually began to spread light across Fendegist's domain. As it appeared, he addressed it a silent prayer of thanks, grateful for its yearly return and the certainty of summer.

And so, he waited, more crow than wolf for once, and watched the light bathe his valley until finally it touched the snow beneath his tree, and at last the fur of his cloak, spreading along his body and across him to mount the hills and continue over the valleys away into the world beyond.

A snowball hit him on the head. He growled, and shook himself like a dog, then turned to look down at the ground below him.

Jorgen stood there, his young body wrapped up warm, grinning like an idiot with a handful of snow in each mitten.

"Raven, come down from the tree, lest I pelt thee some more!" He called up. "The pretty maidens are waiting to dance, and the Jul feast will grow cold on the table. What are you doing?"

"Making sure." Fendegist growled, glancing up at the sun. "Just making sure." He dropped out of the tree and landed heavily on Jorgen, winding him.

"Happy Jul, little brother." He grinned, before loping off, leaving Jorgen coughing. 

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