I was walking through the dark winter woods. The sun hadn’t peeked over the horizon in weeks, but the deep snow was lit up by green light, dancing in the sky.

It is said that the veil between worlds wears thin during the long night, and that the northern lights can reach down and fetch your spirit if you're not careful; it felt true. Yet, I strayed to the woods nearly every day. Accompanying me was my big, black dog. I was small at the time, ten years or so, and I imagine me and my dog weighed roughly the same. He was kind as a lamb.

I would listen closely as I walked through the woods. Other than the crunching snow beneath me as I walked and walked, all seemed quiet. Water remembers, it is the memory of the world - but what happens when water freezes?

While the forest sang in a million different ways in the summer, all I could hear in this frozen landscape was a deep hum, like a sleeping giant. The lights however sang violently. It danced, shook and threw itself across the sky, and the deeper I walked into the forest, the dizzier I felt.

We walked past the marshes, past the hill, through the fence and to the foot of the mountain range before we turning back. At that point I felt weak, disoriented, overwhelmed and I fell down in the cold snow. With great difficulty, I managed to turn over onto my back, and all of the sudden I saw nothing but the northern lights.

That was when my free spirit left.

The green, dancing light was overwhelming, it was everything. It seemed to caress the very tree crowns above me, and despite my worried dog, I was entranced.