Dreamscape

The Arctic cliffs I've identified for this Winter's flying are 900 feet high. Seconds after launch I'll soar out over them and the slope will drop steeply down to fields of cracked sea ice. It should look something like the sketch above, where you see me as a dot suspended below my wing, directing it to turn now and head in for landing...or to spiral-dive for the ice before leveling off for a swoop landing.

It's Arctic Winter, but flying at night won't be dark. There are so many lights in the sky, and they reflect up off the landfast snows and ice.

There are the tilting and fading aurora; there is the incomprehensible glow of the Milky Way; there are small, bright whips and larger lashings of glittering snow being blown up from surface of the frozen sea, drawn up and up the cliff face by wind. There are the cold, friendly stars, of course, and the colored, hurrying planets; and there's the reflection of the white disc of the Moon, which makes fields of snow come up bright, shining. The only darkness, really, is between the lights.