The vast array of a pristine icy clear night stretched out above them. Out here, with no man-made light for thousands of miles, it was clear to see. Uncountable numbers of pin-pricks dancing in the sky. A great sweep of light marking our own Milky Way, visible from within.
Why? Why did he have to spoil everything? Even this majestic vision wasn’t enough to stop his thoughts turning to his infernal herbal tea. She shook her head gently. As long as he doesn’t speak, she thought, the magic may remain. He was clanking and huffing preparing the stove, however, and the spell was broken. Sitting here, on this snowy ground, cold but invigorated she realised. It was time. She pulled up her bags over her head and dropped off to sleep. She wanted an early start.
He couldn’t sleep. He knew. He understood how his very breathing irritated her. Yet for him it was the opposite. Nothing made him happier than her little sounds. Comforting, exciting, even, to be this intimate. What to do about it?
He was cold. Yes that is the solution. Freedom. He slept outside his bags that freezing night. He could even see his last breaths as they left him, insignificant grey puffs disintegrating into the night. Peace for him; peace for her. A perfect deal, he thinks to himself, she will be so pleased.
She did wake early the next morning. She woke to the perfect, unsullied, absolute silence she had been seeking all these years.. It was horrible and terrifying.