For three heartbeats she stood, the flutter of her pulse her only movement. The air on her skin—her clothes were puddled at the foot of a small tree behind her—told her everything a calendar could, and more. Summer on its way out, autumn picking up her skirts and sweeping in.

And then her knees bent, and her arms swung, and her leather amulet thumped her chest in an echo of her heartbeat. Patches of moonlight slid over her limbs, all shivering lines, in the imitation of trees. Her pulse was the pulse of the dirt under her feet, and every beat brought them closer: Alice and world beneath her.

She spun and dipped, bid good-bye to hot and desperate summer, welcomed autumn in with her party sensibility and colors.

Every equinox Alice did this, every solstice.

She danced. Four times a year, and the night spun a web of magic around her.

The moon, the trees, the rocks, all became a blur to her eyes and the sound of crickets rang in her ears.

The dance reached its peak, and she slowed, a thin film of sweat over her. She turned, a slow-motion top coming to rest. Her breath was smooth and strong, burning her throat with every inhalation. The earth was alive, even as it entered preparations for seasonal death, and so was Alice.

She stood motionless once more. As she prepared to sweep her eyes back up to the sky—up a different tree because the moon had moved—they were arrested by a dark mound of silhouette that stirred at the side of her little clearing. The red ember of a cigarette floated.

She jumped slightly, but only slightly; the dance had left her tired and tranquil. She’d been doing this for years, and as far as she knew, this was the first time she’d been watched. A tiny spark of anger burned deep inside that tranquility, that someone would dare to interrupt this.

The smartest thing to do would be to simply finish, salute the moon again, gather her clothes, and disappear. The last thing she needed to do was place her naked self into any kind of situation involving another person.

And she did retreat; far enough to pick up her clothes, anyway. She gathered them in her hands, held them to her waist, stared reluctantly at that floating ember.

It beckoned her.

She didn’t refuse, but she did take a minute to slip her long tee-shirt over her head and step into her much-patched jeans before she went forward.

She approached slowly, as if not to startle. If there was anything surprising to this kid about a naked woman dancing in the moonlight, his face didn’t show it. He looked at her steadily and she suddenly wondered who the invasive one here was. She didn’t know what to say; she regretted her approach.

“Want a beer?” he asked, lifting his cigarette to inhale.

She shook her head.

He winked at her, exhaled smoke. “Merry equinox.”

“You don’t look old enough to be out here drinking and smoking in the middle of the night.” Good point. Like he asked your opinion, Alice, she thought. Naked pagan approaches in the moonlight in order to lecture. She smiled. Nice.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Just welcoming death, just like you.”

“That’s one way to put it, I suppose. I’d say winter brings more death than autumn, though.”

“All the seasons bring death. You don’t know that? One way or the other.” He raised his can of beer to her, as if to toast. “Have a beer.”

She shook her head again. “I don’t need one.”

“Why’d you come over here?”

“I…” her voice faltered. “I don’t know.” There was something about your cigarette ember… She shrugged. “I was thinking maybe you needed some kind of help.”

He raised his eyebrows; a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “You’re the one dancing around naked and I’m the one that needs help of some kind?”

She refused to feel embarrassed. It was what she did. What would be the point? “Yeah.”

It was his turn to shrug. “Maybe I do. What kind of help do you have to offer?”

She thought about it. What did she have to offer? “Probably nothing beyond my company on an autumn equinox.”

“That’s honest. Given that I was sitting here contemplating suicide before you showed up, maybe that’s just what I need.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the inside pocket of his jacket, lit a new one from the old one. “Company.”

Alice pondered possible responses to that revelation. Somehow, his air of amused detachment made her believe him more than if he’d acted distressed. She felt horrified by the idea of a kid like this—he didn’t look to be more than sixteen—sitting here thinking about killing himself; right here, where she danced only to celebrate her own presence in the world.

“Why?” she asked.

He finally smiled, a shy smile that reached up into his eyes. “’Cause life sucks, why else?” He shrugged again. “It’s too hard. Way too much bullshit for very little reward.”

“Life really doesn’t suck,” she said after a moment, not expecting him to believe her.

“Whatever.”

Alice looked up at the moon, a crystal suspended in ink. She wrapped her fingers around her amulet for a second, then pulled it up over her head. She held it out. “This is all I have for you.” No words would ever convince you, anyway.

He looked at the wad of leather in her hand, its strap hanging in a loop. “What’s in it?”

“Strength.” She considered. “Perseverance. Patience.”

He reached for it.

“The moon.”