The ringing of falconry bells broke the evening stillness, and Noellia glanced at the norway spruce that towered over her. Its needles were frosted with snow, the scent of pine wafting over her senses. Icicles fell from the larger boughs of the trees, like crystalline ornaments dangling from the canopy.

"Oh, there you are!" Her hawk had finally returned. With a sigh of relief, she blew her whistle, gauntlet raised and garnished. Majora watched the tempting piece of rabbit haunch for a moment before tucking his wings and landing gently onto the glove. He swallowed the tidbit whole, as Noellia's mouth spread into a grin. Silly bird. He always did this, tried to eat pieces of meat that were far-too-large for him. One of these days she feared he'd choke.

They were quickly losing daylight, the orange and yellow shade of twilight dampening the sky. Dark clouds loomed on the horizon, harbingers of the lake-effect snow storm on its way. The meteorologists had been calling this the "storm of the century" for days, and Noellia's mouth quirked into a half smile. The forecast was always over-exaggerated.

December, the month of short days, was her favorite month to hunt, especially when the ground was white with snow. There was something about the stillness, the absolute silence after a storm that put her soul at peace. The crunching of her boots as they sank in the crisp layer of

These days game was scarce, however. After the severe ice storm several years ago, the rabbit population had yet to bounce back.

Although Majora had most certainly caught something while he was out of sight, if his huge crop was any indicator.

Hopefully just a vole or something, Noellia thought, and fed Majora's braided jesses through his anklets. Hopefully nothing too big, or he would be too heavy and stubborn tomorrow.

Even if he had caught something, that still didn't answer the question as to why he had taken off in the first place. With such great eyesight, he could see much further than she could, especially from a low soar like he had gone into earlier that morning. But he never strayed far, or for long.

And Noellia's telemetry- it had been on the fritz the entire time she'd searched for the bird. Something was definitely off today.

Even now, Majora seemed more high strung than usual, pausing every few seconds to survey their surroundings. His feathers sat flattened against his sleek form. Alert.

Must be the storm.

Noellia hoped it was just the storm.

Majora had never liked bad weather. Perhaps the local meteorologist was right about this one. Maybe there was a chance that this would indeed be the "storm of the century." The dark, billowing clouds were closing in with haste, the trees surrounding her heaving in the gusts.

It was time to get out before nightfall came, although a full moon was beginning to crest over the horizon, illuminating the dusty clouds of snow that were starting to fall ferociously.

She picked her way through the woods, dodging fallen ash trees and puddles underneath the thin sheets of ice. Majora danced on her glove as she strode home, nervously trying to hurl herself off of Noellia's hand. She really should have hooded the bird, but she'd left the small leather cap at the house. Hadn't expected the hunt to spiral so out of control so quickly.

It seemed like only moments before the air pressure changed, and the wind picked up, more bitter than before. Majora cried out in distress as a wall of white buffeted into them, and Noellia's world spiraled into a blinding, frozen hell.

A blanket of white, a strong squall.

Snow so cold it pierces your blood and feels like an army of knives ripping through your veins. A blanket of white so bright it radiates its own light that rivals the sun. Although oxygen was still technically in the air surrounding us, the air felt so heavy that eating it seemed more realistic than breathing. My precious bird Majora. His frantic grip on the gauntlet on my arm felt like he was crushing my bones. At first his blood curdling squeals tore my heart, but then they faded to a hiss that I never knew a bird could make. Majora and I had survived blizzard conditions, but this one felt as though the end of our time in our realm had arrived.

This blizzard raged as though a century passed by. Maybe it was just a few minutes that felt like an eternity.

Relief came in the form of a raindrop. This would hardly seem a likely alleviation of this horror, but indeed it was. A drop that felt surprising cool and fresh. Then the next drops felt slick and soft. The rain picked up from a drizzle to a moderate flow, not exactly a gentle rain, but steady and confident. And it had the effect of cutting through the freezing blanket of snow and seemed to wash away the opaque barrier of the squall. Majora never liked rain, but he slowly loosened his death grip and remained tense, but quiet on my arm.

Much to my astonishment, we were no longer on the edge of the pine forest that led into town, where I sorely wanted to go to regain my humanity with a hot bath, a simmering stew, and my Rokee pipe. Instead, I observed a vista that appeared like an old growth forest with towering trees. These were not ordinary trees; they were dappled in subtle hues of red, pink, silver, and cream. They swayed gently and made the faintest tinkling sound. As my eyes adjusted to the slowly brightening landscape around me, I notived little animals, but they were not regular animals. They appeared almost see through, ethereal, delicate, gentle. As we adjusted to our surroundings, Majora looked around alertly, but was clearly washed over with that calm aura that pervaded this land.

I realized that standing and gaping at everything was not going to get me and Majora home or get us any food. So I started carefully treading quietly and heading towards a clearing in the trees, which I hoped might have some sign of human life.

My hunch proved somewhat correct. There was definitely something in this clearing, but it didn't appear human at all.

Majora unexpectedly leaped off my arm and flew in the direction of a small hill that had medium-sized branches stacked in a way that made a small platform. Standing proudly on this platform was a falcon. Not an ordinary falcon. It looked like crystal with veins of emeralds and topaz throughout. It was about double the size of Majora, who was considered a large bird by regular standards. Majora circled the mound three times, landed in front of this towering animal, and did something I never thought my falcon would do. He slowly sat dwon and lowewred his head in a slow bow of reverence to the Crystal Falcon.

The Crystal Falcon gazed at Majora, clicked its beak, and then Majora lifted his head and peered at me, as if the beckon me forward. Snow so cold it pierces your blood and feels like an army of knives ripping through your veins. A blanket of white so bright it radiates its own light that rivals the sun. Although oxygen was still technically in the air surrounding us, the air felt so heavy that eating it seemed more realistic than breathing. My precious bird Majora. His frantic grip on the gauntlet on my arm felt like he was crushing my bones. At first his blood curdling squeals tore my heart, but then they faded to a hiss that I never knew a bird could make. Majora and I had survived blizzard conditions, but this one felt as though the end of our time in our realm had arrived.

This blizzard raged as though a century passed by. Maybe it was just a few minutes that felt like an eternity.

Relief came in the form of a raindrop. This would hardly seem a likely alleviation of this horror, but indeed it was. A drop that felt surprising cool and fresh. Then the next drops felt slick and soft. The rain picked up from a drizzle to a moderate flow, not exactly a gentle rain, but steady and confident. And it had the effect of cutting through the freezing blanket of snow and seemed to wash away the opaque barrier of the squall. Majora never liked rain, but he slowly loosened his death grip and remained tense, but quiet on my arm.

Much to my astonishment, we were no longer on the edge of the pine forest that led into town, where I sorely wanted to go to regain my humanity with a hot bath, a simmering stew, and my Rokee pipe. Instead, I observed a vista that appeared like an old growth forest with towering trees. These were not ordinary trees; they were dappled in subtle hues of red, pink, silver, and cream. They swayed gently and made the faintest tinkling sound. As my eyes adjusted to the slowly brightening landscape around me, I noticed little animals, but they were not regular animals. They appeared almost see-through, ethereal, delicate, gentle. As we adjusted to our surroundings, Majora looked around alertly, but was clearly washed over with that calm aura that pervaded this land.

I realized that standing and gaping at everything was not going to get me and Majora home or get us any food. So I started treading quietly and heading towards a clearing in the trees, which I hoped might have some sign of human life.

My hunch proved somewhat correct. There was definitely something in this clearing, but it didn't appear human at all.

Majora unexpectedly leaped off my arm and flew in the direction of a small hill that had medium-sized branches stacked in a way that made a small platform. Standing proudly on this platform was a falcon. Not an ordinary falcon. It looked like crystal with veins of emeralds and topaz throughout. It was about double the size of Majora, who was considered a large bird by regular standards. Majora circled the mound three times, landed in front of this towering animal, and did something I never thought my falcon would do. He alighted in front of the Crystal Falcon and lowered his head in a slow bow of reverence.

The Crystal Falcon gazed at Majora, clicked its beak, and then Majora lifted his head and peered at me, as if to beckon me forward. I really wasn't sure if I should be afraid, in awe, amused, or angry. The Crystal Falcon turned her gaze towards me and commanded me, "Come forward, Noellia. Your fate has become entwined with ours. We shall seek our fortunes together until the time comes to part ways. First you and your mighty falcon will refresh yourselves in my dwelling. Then we will talk of the long journey ahead of us."