The cabin was dark, the only sunlight to be seen were the shards sneaking through the gaps between the boards where the storms of the past forty years had warped the wood, or the tiny gaps in the shutters over the only window on the east side of the cabin. At first, all was as still and silent within the old walls as without, then a slight vibration was heard, or would have been if there had been anyone within the cabin. But there was no one in the shaded space protected from the wind here, and not for miles around the cabin either.
Jenna looked all around herself before she guided the heavy door closed behind her, but she saw nothing but the usual dull browns of the late summer sky after the passing of one of the worst dust storms of the season, and the grey browns of the ground all around the Door.
The light overhead had begun to grow bright, and the tallest of the flowers opened its petals to the light, spreading its leaves so that it would get the benefit of the warmth after the cool of the darkness. The smaller plants all around it continued with what they had been doing when the light had faded into darkness, the way they always did.
In the beginning, all was shapeless and still, filled with darkness and emptiness. Then with a single low, tolling note, a pale light appeared that quickly grew to fill in the cracks in... everywhere. It grew in intensity as the note was sustained, then it seemed to fade away once more, leaving seemingly countless specks of itself behind that would form the patterns later races would one day call the constellations.
Fog shrouds the edges of the rocks
The clouds parted as Chione looked out the window and into the yard, trying to see if she could see if Breka was finally home yet. The winter weak sunlight slipped over her shoulder and into the room as Chione leaned away from it almost instinctively. The light didn't hurt her — exactly — but it wasn't comfortable to be out in it for more than a couple hours.