The canopy twinkled overhead, the stars like glinting gems on midnight black velvet, and the full hologram moon smiled down on them, shimmering like a plump pearl. Isobel huddled close to Montgomery, and together they gazed at the gleaming heavens, the thick quilt protecting them against the cold. Ash sniffed about the rooftop, finally settling down next to her with a contented grunt.
"Good boy. Keep me warm," she said, pulling him closer.
The neighborhood was noisy for that late hour. People were awake and agitated, unable to sleep from the unsettling news of a possible war.
"Have you ever wondered what's beyond all this, out there, outside of Landgraevan, on the other side of the Pythean?" she asked.
"Frozen dead people?"
"No. On the other side of the mountain range."
"More frozen dead people?" he asked.
"Montgomery, it's not frozen there."
"How do you know?"
"Because they don't have Bucky, that's how I know," she replied.
"Isobel, you can't be sure of that. That's pure speculation. What if you get there and find out it's overrun with marauding nomads?"
"I never said I'd go there."
"Good," he said.
After a long silence. "But in case we have to leave - I'm just saying that maybe it's not as bad as they make it out to be. Maybe it's actually nice."
"Or maybe it's worse," Montgomery offered.
"Perhaps," she replied and, remembering the sensing drone, stood and crept to the edge of the building. She craned herself over the roof and observed as the drone switched sides of the street and head in the opposite direction once again. She hurried back to the warmth of Montgomery, Ash, and the quilt, settling in with a sigh.
"But maybe it's better out there, past the canopy," she continued.
"What could be better than this, Isobel? We're living the dream. Can't you tell?" he countered with a wave of his outstretched arm.
She laughed. "Is that what we're calling this nightmare now, a dream?"
"Isobel, I know that it's not all frozen wasteland out there, but everything surrounding Landgraevan is. For me, this is as good as it gets. It has to be," he said.
"I know, Montgomery. The caged bird wont leave its cage after a while, even when the door is left open."
"It's called self preservation."
"Funny. I call it slow death," she said.
They sat for a while, silently watching the sky twinkle, lost in thought. Ash lay asleep next to her, his great head resting on her thigh, and she laid her head on Montgomery's shoulder, closing her eyes.
Emergent, Book One : Isobel Page 10