The journey home was decidedly less enjoyable. Even wrapped in their dry coats with knit caps jammed over dripping hair, and socks and shoes pulled over damp feet, the night air was biting and sharp. Once out of the woods, they biked in shivery silence.
Alma didn’t know what Shirin and Hugo were thinking about, but her mind was on the golden trails that had filled the woods and the iridescent light that had illuminated the water. She was thinking about how she and her new friends were on their way to creating quintessence.
“We’re coming, Starling,” she whispered into the wind. “We’re coming.”
Shirin left them first, heading toward her house in Fourth Point with a too-loud “Bye!” and a grin that gleamed in the moonlight.
Hugo went almost the whole way with Alma, the two of them pedaling side by side. When they reached her street, he waved a gloved hand and kept on toward Second Point.
Alma rode the last few minutes alone.
And even alone, inside her mind, her thoughts stayed wondrous and sparkling.
At home, she closed the window she had just climbed through and changed into her nightgown. She hung her damp clothing up in her closet and then shut the closet door. It was so late, but she pressed the quintescope to her eye one last time.
Through the eyepiece, Alma stared at the jar of water that Shirin had let her keep, watching the glowing colors swirl and gleam.
Then she put the scope away, set the jar on her nightstand, and crawled into bed.
She fell asleep within seconds.
It was a deep, wave-rocked, light-filled sleep.