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"Come on! We're getting close! We've got about twenty minutes to go, I think," Yogirt called over his shoulder.
"You said that twenty minutes ago," Satan grumbled. "And an hour before that."
"I really mean it this time! I can hear it!"
Yogirt rubbed his gloved hands together and breathed into them, warming his fingers against the chill. His breath steamed in the cold morning air. His tail twitched around his legs, his wings shivered even while he was aloft, and his face was on fire with the cold burn that preceded numbness, but he was no less excited than when they'd set out.
He hadn't been to Earth in years—not since he was younger, when he and his friends would sneak out for parties and hijinks, spy on the humans and drunkenly dare each other to sneak up and scare them. But those trips had been about the thrill; this trip was about simply being, in a way that neither he nor Satan could back home. This trip was a first for both of them, in a way.
They were deep in a snowy, wooded mountain range, far from the prying eyes and ears of humans. It was early, still dark enough for a wash of stars to be visible in the sky. A resounding quiet hung over the woods like a blanket; the only sounds came from the brook they were following and a scattered chorus of songbirds. Yogirt was accustomed to feeling small, but he was in awe of these mountains, how huge and humbling they were. The isolation was as exciting as it was daunting.
Satan seemed less than impressed by the scenery. As Yogirt paused in midair, waiting for him to catch up, Satan groused, "How come you get to fly? You're making me walk."
"You'd be too noticeable in the air, and I wouldn't be able to keep up with you on the ground. Besides, you can stand to work on your cardio."
Ignoring Satan's grunt of indignation, Yogirt eagerly asked, "Do you hear it?"
Sure enough, as they climbed higher, the trees thinned and the birds were drowned out by the distant rumble of a waterfall.
"I hear it," Satan said with far too little enthusiasm. Yogirt made a face, but refused to match his bad mood.
He'd been trying for weeks to convince Satan to agree to this. It was one of the latest trends he'd been seeing on social media—not just a hike in the mortal realm, but this specific hike, to this specific waterfall, at this specific time. Everyone Yogirt asked about it said it was well worth the effort, so it had gone right to the top of his bucket list. Satan wasn't so easily convinced, but with the right persuasion—and no small amount of begging—he'd acquiesced, albeit begrudgingly.
Yogirt would take a begrudging Satan over no Satan. He'd been looking forward to this, and he wasn't going to let anything dampen his spirits today.
They followed the brook to its source, a wide, tiered waterfall jutting over a cliff. The roar was deafening after the near absolute silence of the surrounding woods.
"Is this it?" Satan asked, hefting his backpack.
"No, we have to go to the top," Yogirt said, flying up the side of the waterfall. A spray of water danced across his skin. It was freezing; it was exhilarating.
"Why? This looks fine to me."
"Everyone says the good spot is at the top! Come on!"
Satan gave an irritated chuff, but followed Yogirt up the cliff without further protest.
They reached the top of the waterfall, where a sizeable clearing was ringed by a semicircle of tall trees. Without knowing the exact directions, they never would have found it, which made Yogirt feel all the more accomplished.
"I suppose this is nice," Satan said hesitantly. Yogirt couldn't tell if he was being lenient or genuinely trying to be positive.
"This isn't it, either," Yogirt said, his giddy smile widening.
Satan started to complain again, but Yogirt cut him off. "Put your stuff down and find a place to sit. We just have to wait a few more minutes."
Satan raised a skeptical eyebrow, but did as he was told. They both took off their backpacks and found comfortable seating. Satan settled on the ground, tucking his limbs underneath his body like a cat and folding his wings around himself. Yogirt perched on his head between his horns, taking shelter under the brim of his hat. From their vantage point, they had the perfect view of the surrounding mountains.
"What are we waiting for?" Satan asked, sounding only a little grouchy. His moodiness was starting to wane now that they were done walking.
"You'll see."
They lapsed into silence. Yogirt didn't mind it; the waterfall was perfect, if loud, ambience, and once they saw what they'd come to see, the wait would be worth it.
The sky slowly lightened. Purple, pink, and orange streaked its cloudy underbelly. Finally, in the distant horizon, the sun crept into view.
Golden light expanded over the mountains, glittering off the fresh snow. The woods seemed to breathe a collective sigh, as if the trees were sharing in the warmth. Yogirt's breath caught in his throat; it was the loveliest thing he'd ever witnessed.
Satan was silent for a long time, statue-still beneath Yogirt. Finally, he stated, "I've never come to Earth to watch a sunrise."
That took Yogirt by surprise. Satan was old—one of the oldest beings in Hell. He didn't say things like "I've never". It was always "It's been a while," or "Not in a long time," or "Not anymore." Yogirt could understand how some modern anger management activities might be firsts for him, but something as unchanging as an Eath sunrise? Perhaps he'd glimpsed one in passing before, but had he never stopped to actually watch it?
"And that's just one star—one of countless—that just happens to be a little bigger and closer than the others," Yogirt said, though he knew it wasn't a marvelous epiphany to someone like Satan. "Looking at it from here, it's easy to see why humans used to worship it, don't you think?"
He slid out from under Satan's hat and hopped down to the ground. He pulled his phone from his pack and beckoned Satan closer.
"C'mere, we have to take a selfie with it."
"Why?"
"Because that's the trend. Here, I'll show you what to do with your hands."
With some badgering, Yogirt coerced Satan into the obligatory pose, with one hand raised like he was holding the sun in his palm. Yogirt did it, too, and although he couldn't quite get the camera angle right, he was too happy to be disappointed. Despite the candid awkwardness (it didn't look at all like either of them was holding the sun), the picture was a good one, he thought—maybe one of his best. They both looked alive in their hiking gear, their faces flushed with color, the sprawl of mountainous woods behind them painting a perfect scene. Satan even looked a skosh less stern than usual, especially since Yogirt got him to do a thumbs up.
They stayed on the cliff for a long time afterwards, eating their respective trail snacks and chatting about idle things. The convoluted politics of Hell had never felt so distant. Yogirt enjoyed sitting this close to Satan, mostly because it was like sitting beside a giant furnace. He'd dressed in cold weather hiking clothes, as per Yogirt's request, but his natural body heat was enough to melt the snow around him and scorch the frozen grass.
"Thank you for doing this with me," Yogirt said at last. He turned to the sunrise and admitted, "I've never come to Earth for a sunrise, either. It's beautiful."
Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a ghost of a smile cross Satan's face. For the briefest moment, Satan looked truly at peace.
"Yes," he agreed. "Beautiful."
Here's the fanart I wrote this for, made by veeeeectory on tumblr. No personal association, I just saw this and thought it was Good.
