the sky make it seem close enough to be reachable by foot. It’s at least twice the size of the sun and while it doesn’t have the warmth in temperature, it has the warmth in feeling.
The fairies fly haphazardly toward the moon, twisting and twirling, leaving trails of glowing light briefly behind them. Stars appear one by one as they fade out of view. As the moon rises higher, its light reflects off the pond’s water making the pond look like it's covered in hundreds of sparkling diamonds. The frog croaks and hops back into the water for a swim.
I chuckle softly to myself and turn my gaze to Zoë, who is still lying in the grass, watching her amazing creation and grinning like an arrogant child. She raises an eyebrow at me. I smile at her, rendered speechless by the beauty she has created. Pangs of jealously shoot through me. I wish that I had even an ounce of her creativity.
I’ve always known that Zoë possessed a special ability that I did not have. When we were younger and Zoë controlled our walks, they were magical, light hearted and felt like a fairy tale. As we got older, her idea of magical evolved but the magnificence of her mind’s eye always left me spellbound.
But even the phenomenal splendor surrounding us can't distract me for long. We can’t ignore the reason why we have been forced here tonight. A dark walker came after us. My facial expression drops when the thought enters my mind. I take a seat next to Zoë again.
“Well that didn’t take long,” she says with a sigh as she looks at me.
My gaze falls to the ground as my mind floods with questions. I shake my head slowly from side to side. “Why would a dark walker want to come after us? We’re just… us.”
“Why do dark walkers want to go after anyone? Do we really know anything genuine about them or their purpose?”
I shrug at her realization. “I only know that they're dangerous. Walkers who encounter and interact with them disappear forever. Walkers who leave wake up the next morning.”
She hesitates a moment before asking, “has your dad ever given you any more adult-like information on walking?”
“Like what exactly?”
“Like literally any insight into why we can do this? It’s not something that most people have the ability to achieve. How do we manage to leave our bodies behind for these epic journeys every night?”
I shrug. “He doesn’t really like to talk about walking much. Everything I know, I learned before fifth grade. I don’t even think he allows himself to walk anymore.”
Her brow tightens in confusion. “What does he do? Just sit there and watch himself sleep all night?” We both laugh at the thought.
Zoë continues. “And your mom literally knows not one single thing about dreamwalking?”
I shake my head. “She’s clueless.”
“Why doesn’t your dad want her to know?” she asks confusedly.
“Why don’t you want your parents to know?” I ask her in return.
After a long pause, Zoë changes the subject. “So should I go find that frog for you? Maybe a good smooch will turn him into your prince.”
I roll my eyes at her in the most obvious way I can. “I’m good without a prince. And also good with not kissing a frog.”
“You know what my mom always says—you have to kiss a few frogs before you find your prince."
My mood deflates. I can’t look anywhere but down. “I’m pretty sure doing that last year is exactly what got me to where I am now.” I arrange my jacket on the grass behind me and lie down on it.
“Emma, just because one guy is a jerk and doesn’t appreciate who you are doesn’t mean they all are. And besides, that particular jerk is gone.”
Zoë smiles at me cautiously. When I don’t return the expression she bites her bottom lip, her face expressing a mixture of pity, confusion, and guilt. I look down at the grass, pick an extra long piece and twirl it around my fingers. Zoë pushes herself up off the ground. “That’s it! I’m going to find the frog!"
***
Several hours into our walk, after losing track of time, we are greeted by a familiar marimba tune flooding the air.
The realization that it’s time for our walk to end is always a disappointing one. “See you soon,” I say to her before grabbing my jacket and backpack and making the conscious decision to leave. In the blink of an eye, I’m gone.