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“I’m freezing my tail off! Whose idea was this anyway?” Feldspar sniffed dramatically, breath leaving little white puffs in the cold night air.
“Hornfels’,” Esker and Gossan drawled in unison.
“Hey, come on, I’m doing this for you guys,” Hornfels retorted, their voice tinged with indignation.
The group was huddled around a snuffed out fire. They'd set up a temporary camp next to a copse of trees on the plains a good distance away from the village crater. Hornfels was busy carefully positioning a small telescope a few meters away. Frost dusted the grass and trees, sparkling like tiny stars at the slightest hint of light.
“Can we at least light the damn fire again?!” Feldspar whined. They were hunched over themself, shivering and rubbing their bare hands together.
“No, we need as little light as possible. That’s why we’re all the way out here.”
“Couldn’t you have chosen a, I dunno… warmer night for this?” Esker asked good-naturedly from their seat near the canvas tent they'd raised before sunset.
“No, I couldn’t,” Hornfels countered matter-of-factly, “One, because there won’t be another night where the conditions are as perfect as this, at least not for a while,” the aspiring astronomer adjusted a knob on their amateur telescope’s tripod to tighten it again, “and two, this is Gossan and Slate's last night before the...move,” they ended in a softer tone.
There was an awkward silence. Feldspar crossed their arms. Esker cleared their throat, and looked sideways at Gossan.
The young miner rolled their eyes in response, “We’re only moving closer to the mine, Hornfels. It’s no big deal,” they tried to reassure their younger friends.
“Yeah, well, I don’t see the point,” Feldspar interjected, not hiding the hint of bitterness in their voice, "You drink a little sapwine without throwing up, and suddenly you're too cool for the cabin. Big whoop." They finished sourly.
“The point is we’re not hatchlings anymore, Felds,” Gossan retorted with a smile, wrapping an arm around their shoulders and squeezing amicably, “And its closer to work, so it just makes sense, ya’know? So stop sulking.”
“Not to mention, I’m sure Slate’s looking forward to not waking up to a certain hatchling jumping on their back first thing in the morning,” Esker added with a chuckle.
Feldspar pouted, looking for the young adult in question. Slate had tagged along somewhat reluctantly at Hornfels’ urging, only to retreat into their sleeping bag as soon as they had finished cooking and serving the small gang dinner, mumbling about long days and being woken up too early.
Gossan must have noticed Feldspar eyeing the engineer, because they said “Feldspar, don’t,” as the teen left their embrace and walked over to their sleeping friend.
“Oi , wingnut! What gives?!” Feldspar said loudly, leaning over Slate and tapping their forehead with a heavy hand, “who said you could go to bed before us?” Behind them, they heard Gossan groan ‘here we go again’ under their breath.
Slate grunted, looking up at Feldspar with one bleary eye, “…I did. Go’way,” came their grumbled reply from under the sleeping bag. Slate had curled up so that their nose and mouth were protected from the heat-sapping air. At Feldspar’s disturbance they turned away and dipped further beneath the cover until only the top of their beanie stuck out.
Feldspar glared down at their friend, their chattering teeth making them look anything but threatening. They hopped from one foot to the other in an attempt to keep some blood flowing to their very numb toes.
Suddenly Feldspar stopped as an idea flashed upon them. They grinned menacingly.
Slowly and carefully so the elder wouldn't catch on, they untucked the loose edge of Slate’s sleeping bag just enough to reach their icy hands inside, gingerly seek an opening in the fabric between Slate’s belt and shirt, find a patch of bare skin and…
“GaaaAAAAAAAAAAH! Feldspar you little squit!!” Slate roared as soon as the teen's cold hands met their back. Feldspar quickly stepped away, a massive grin taking up half of their face as Slate threw the sleeping bag open, trying to kick their legs loose of the fabric so they could scrabble to their feet.
“Get over here! I’ll launch you into orbit myself!”
“Ooooooo, I’m so sca~red,” Feldspar taunted sarcastically, getting ready to make a dash for it. They were fast, and could outrun Slate in a sprint, but Slate had long legs and more stamina. They’d need to get a head start.
As soon as Slate’s feet touched the ground, Feldspar ducked in the opposite direction, cackling hysterically as the adrenaline of being chased quickly overtook them.
For the next few minutes, the otherwise still winter air was punctuated by shouts (Slate), and laughter (Feldspar) as they dashed in and out of the pines, vaulted over fallen tree trunks, slipped and skidded and tumbled on grass and mud…
At one point, the duo got too close to the telescope for Hornfels’ comfort, “Heyheyheyhey! Back off!” the younger yelled in an uncharacteristically hostile tone.
“Sorry! Sorry!” Feldspar shouted back breathlessly. It was getting harder to keep out of Slate’s reach, and the engineer had already managed to nab their scarf and pull it clean off.
“Could you two maybe quit it?” Gossan called when they’d gotten a few meters away again, “You’re making Hornfels nervous!” they shouted through hands cupped around their mouth.
Feldspar laughed again, breaths starting to take on a high-pitched whine. They were losing speed thanks to the jerky sharp coughs now escaping their burning lungs. It was only a matter of time before they were fish bait. They looked over their shoulder quickly to gauge Slate’s speed and distance, then turned abruptly to face their friend, feet planted in a wide stance.
As expected, Slate stopped a ways ahead of them, wary of the possibility that Feldspar might have something up their sleeve. Feldspar didn’t, but they’d been counting on their track record to make the elder uneasy.
“Had-“ Feldspar coughed and gasped, “Had enough, old pal?” They said with a smirk, once again using the 4-year age gap between them as a way to rile up their friend.
Slate’s eyes glinted back, a grin of their own exposing sharp teeth, “Hah, I’m not the one who’s wheezing like an old crank. You’re finished Felds, just give up already,” they said through labored breaths.
Feldspar coughed again, squaring up for a moment, then made a bluff start in one direction, then the other, watching attentively as Slate mirrored their movements.
This was it.
Feldspar launched themself to the right and tried to make a break for it, but their tired calves lacked the explosive strength needed to put enough distance between them and their pursuer. They grunted as they were tackled to the ground. A short wrestling match ensued- short because Slate was almost three times Feldspar’s size, and it didn’t take them long to grab both of the younger’s ankles in their large hands.
“Nononono! Slate! Slaaaaaate,” Feldspar shouted between desperate laughs, “Wait! At least let me be face-up!!”
“You asked for it!” Slate was upright now, pulling Feldspar vertical by their legs, “Think of it as training!” They yelled as they leaned backward, and started to swing Feldspar around in circles.
Feldspar’s broken screams and giggles echoed out over the plains. Eventually, when they got too dizzy and the younger's cries of ‘I’m gonna hurl!’ sounded genuine enough, Slate slowed to a stop, dropping Feldspar face down on the grass, then flopping onto their back. The two laid there for a while, catching their breath and grinning like idiots.
“Guys! Guysquickit’shere! You’re going to miss it!!” Hornfels shouted hurriedly from where they were bent over the telescope’s eyepiece, waving a hand in the air towards the now-filthy duo.
Feldspar got to their feet first, only slightly wobbly, and held out a hand to Slate, who smiled and yanked on it hard enough that the teen landed on their hands and knees at the engineer's side.
“Hey!” Feldspar whined, voice lacking any real displeasure. A moment later, they found themself pulled upright by an arm hooked under theirs. They didn’t bother dusting off their knees or seat of their pants, instead rushing over to Hornfels’ side. Slate followed more leisurely behind them.
“Where’s your scarf?” Gossan asked pointedly as the two approached, levelling a frown at them. Slate wordlessly pulled said item out of their back pocket and handed it over to Gossan, who proceeded to wrap it around Feldspar’s neck tightly.
“Ugh, I can do that myself, you know,” Feldspar grumbled half-heartedly, but didn't make any other protest.
“That’s it… perfect,” Hornfels whispered, then moved aside to let Feldspar have a look. “Don’t. Touch. Anything!” they said a little louder when Feldspar’s hand reflexively came up to hold the device steady.
“Alright, alright, don’t bite my head off…. burnt marshmallow…” Feldspar grumbled back, not fond of being chastised by the youngest member of their gang.
They quickly forgot everything else when they saw it.
There, through the lens - clear as day and so, so, beautiful – was the Interloper. It’s dust tail – or plasma tail, Feldspar could never remember which was correct no matter how often Hornfels drummed it into their head – left ethereal green and blue brushstrokes across the deep black canvas of space.
Feldspar held their breath. That feeling in their chest - like glowing hot coals- sparked and grew rapidly into a bonfire between their ribs, adrenaline coursing through their arms and legs, a pent up energy that demanded to be acknowledged. Sometimes, it got so bad they felt the urge to pace, to run, to scream! They’d asked Gneiss about it once, that first time they'd felt it after their launch in the reinforced barrel-rocket Slate had made. The artisan had worried over them, convinced they'd sustained internal injuries in addition to a broken arm, until Tektite asked Feldspar to describe the sensation, and when exactly it was that they felt it the most. Feldspar told them.
Afterwards, Tektite had laughed heartily and said they’d been cursed with the worst possible case of the Wanderlust.
That's what it was. A lust, an intense longing to be... out there. To feel weightless and free, unburdened by their tiny cage of a body that seemed determined to rob them of their vitality.
Feldspar swiped at their cheek, hoping no one had noticed the tear that managed to escape. They looked up slowly, and saw that the others were watching the sky, tracking the same target as the telescope.
“Hey, uh,” Feldspar started, then cleared the hoarseness from their throat, “you guys want a turn?”
Sixteen pairs of eyes turned to them. Feldspar suddenly felt… timid. Which was very unlike them.
It must have shown, because in the next moment Esker moved closer and patted their shoulder, smiling widely, “Nah, we’re good, pebble.”
Feldspar smiled somewhat bashfully, about to lean back down to take another look –
“Actually, um… if you really don't mind…” Hornfels said, looking at them anxiously.
Feldspar chuckled and stepped back, “All yours, buddy,” they quipped, gesturing toward the telescope, only to clip the edge of it with the back of their hand accidentally. For a second, Hornfels looked horrified, but then calmed down when, on inspection, the telescope somehow hadn’t lost focus of the comet.
Smiling, and settling their hand over that place where the fire burned inside them, Feldspar looked up, and up, and up at the blanket of stars above them.
For a while, the group was silent.
“We’ll get you there… that’s not gonna change,” Slate's voice finally broke the quiet reverie.
Feldspar looked back at their friends. Both Gossan and Slate were watching them with a smile.
Feldspar returned it with their signature grin, "You can bet your sweet mallows we will!”
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