Anthem watched the shape-shifting of the clouds, illuminated by an unseen moon. They looked as if someone was trying to tear a hole in them, starting from a small breach in the darkened mass of storm clouds, trying to work their fingers in there, to tear through. Areas of the thinning fabric allowed more of the silver light from behind to pass through. The unseen force tugged at the strands of clouds forcing the gap wider and wider.
Then it died. The movement, the struggle. It died. Anthem imagined the invisible being, spent of force and energy just slipping backwards from the whole. Every last drop of energy spent in trying to break through, desperation fuelling them.
Maybe they had needed the moonlight to survive. Maybe they had to get to the other side of the blanketing clouds just to breath again. Underneath that sky of grey, they had known that the only salvation was to make it through, like being submerged and having to surface to gasp in life saving air.
Whoever it wasn’t couldn’t get there. Anthem watched the tragic closing of the clouds, blocking off the moon once more. Through the thicker descending darkness, Anthem pictured the fallen creature floating, softly, silently to the earth like a feather.