The hillside is quiet except for the wind moving through dry grass and the distant sound of bells from a flock bedding down for the night. You have been sitting here long enough that the cold has settled into your shoulders. The sky above is impossibly full - stars packed so dense they blur at the edges, the kind of sky that makes a person feel very small and very honest at the same time. Then a streak of light splits the dark. Not a blink-and-miss-it flash. A slow, deliberate arc, trailing silver, and it lands somewhere just beyond the ridge with no sound at all. And from where it fell, something is walking toward you - luminous, unhurried, and looking at you like it already knows your name.