I watched the sky in wonder. Blue, yellows and reds mixing together on the soft edges of the clouds. The sky littered with the gray forms from one end to the next. The emerging sun ,lazily rising from the horizon, it's warmth rays painting the landscape in gold and silver. Even the lake seemed to be reflecting the light particularly well today. It all looked perfect and relaxing. Which is what made me wonder why I was so nervous. It had started a few minutes before dawn, when I had woken up in my small cabin, the snores of my sister breaking the silence. A heavy feeling had settled on my gut, like a rock pressing me down against the mattress, while a vague sense of danger dangled in the edges of my vision. At first I though it was a nightmare, its influence enhanced by the solid darkness of the room, the dark shapes of familiar furniture changing into terrifying forms. But even as I turned on the lights, tinting the run with a faint white light, the rock in my gut didn't leave.

It stayed with me as I got ready for the day, the shower lacked its relaxing qualities, breakfast tasted a bit off and the morning air left my skin feeling raw. My sister seemed to be in the same boat. There was no soft tune as she dressed, no awkward dancing as she cooked and her endless banter was missing as we ate. A strange heaviness accompanied us as we got in our jeeps, the whole situation feeling oddly mechanical, impersonal, remote. For once in our lives we didn't feel like ourselves, like the protagonists of our own stories, but like spectators, allowed to see, but not interact with any part of the story. It filled me with a  slight sense of dread, and were I more inclined to the religious path, a dozen prayers would have been said.

As it was, my sister and I had job to do, a border to watch, phenomena to register, specimens to care for. Our lives were second to that, or so it seemed now. We parted with a quick muted goodbye, our routes already inscribed in our minds from months of practice. The old jeep took me out into the lonely plains in quite a bumpy ride, unlike the newer models that seemed to glide. It was all part of the experience I suppose, and it at least diminished some of the foreboding that had been hanging on my mind. That's how I had found my way to the top of one of the plateau, watching over the world like I had promised to my dad.

A loud rumble came from the sky, carrying an undertone of suffering and pain. Another rumble came, this one more pronounced and strong, lasting just a few more seconds than the last. The clouds slowly started to gather as I looked at the sky, forming big multicolored sky islands. My brain soon assigning shape and name to all of them. Closest to the sun there was Tindar, the cloud that looked like a pair of wooden logs. Next to it stood Undia, the maiden, and next to that one was Cain, the sword of morning. Caromonir was the largest, with a deep gray marking its passing in the vast sky. On and on I went, naming each and every group, mourning the r losses and celebrating their births. Until only one big cloud covered the whole of the sky. It barely lasted for a few seconds, soon dissipating in the higher air currents. A final rumble reverberated throughout the place, shaking me to my very essence. It was then that I felt it, a slight change in the pressure, and slight smell of recently turned earth, and then it started.

Small fragments of sky started to fall, soft little pieces of precipitation that just in the right conditions would have been a great joy. But that was not to happen. For the natural white of the snow, the purifying color that signified peace and emptiness was nowhere to be found. Instead, the small bits of snow were of a crimson red. It was very strange for red snow to appear this early in winter. Probably a sign of the dangers to come, maybe a sign of the assassinations to be carried out that night. It was strange, and that strange quickly and against all prognostics, remained quite. It had been years since I had last seen it, back when dad was still with us, and the runs were smaller, with less territory under our jurisdiction. And this snow, this snow meant trouble.

A storm was coming, of that much I was sure. It had happened back then, when father went missing, and that feeling in my gut,  it could only come from that. I quickly dialled my sister's phone, ready to fight her for a quick return to base, to our home. However, the connection was never made. Only the sound of static invading my ears. Worry quickly ate at my heart, planting images of grim and disturbing fates in the depths of my consciousness. I ran back to my jeep, struggling for a moment to turn it on, and set course to home. The trip back was much slower than I would have liked, but the constant falling of the red flakes all over the road made me wary. I knew that I only needed one mistake, one misstep to make the trip to the afterlife. The weathered shape of the dome soon appeared in the horizon, sprinkled with bits of red all over. The snow was falling harder now, small mounds of snow already forming at the edges of the road. I parked net to my sis's jeep, the old red and blue doing a good job of hiding the traitorous snow. A flick of the wrist killed the motor. The dome's main doors opened slowly, revealing the worried face of my sisters. She waited just until the sliding doors were opened wide enough for her to slip through. Both of us running towards each other, and then, sharing a shaky but warmth hug. The rock was still there, hanging in my gut, reminding me of the impeding disaster. But as my sister pulled me closer to her, I pushed that feeling to the back of my mind.