Her eyes were fixed upon the asteroid that shot across the star-filled sky, cutting through the northern lights like an axe through wood. Its tail was cool blue, and shimmered faintly, a sign that she knew well. Gathering her supplies in one hand, and her cane in the other, she hobbled along the snowy trail towards her hut to prepare for the Cull. She knew her final moment was on the horizon, but all the same, she didn't want to die without her pup by her side.
Along the path, she kept her eyes trailed along the asteroid, the pain in her leg rang with each step like the sirens which sang out from the sea. It felt as though the beasts gripped into her muscle along her thigh with claws of iron, and twisted and pulled the tendons until they resembled ground saltpork. All the same, she would not die without her pup, so no matter how much the pain drove her to collapse, she kept her forward momentum, only the shimmering tail above acting as respite from the pain, if only in the momentary glances up towards the Cull.
A white squirrel darted across the path, and vanished into the brush, shaking her resolve for a moment, interrupted once again by a fox close behind. Each fox and squirrel were as the snow, making them hard to see, even so close in front of her. As the snow picked up, any hope of seeing her brothers and sisters in the Culling would be lost. She wondered if the squirrel would survive to see it, or if it would be hunted as she would be as the asteroid crawled ever closer, its movement unnaturally slow.
As a child, she wondered what the Culling would be like. She always figured it would be a blinding light, and then she'd be with her mother in the Lands Beyond, but in looking up at the encroaching asteroid, she feared that her assumption was mistaken. If the Culling was long, and painful, would she join her mother? Or would she be left in the flaming hellscape after the rest of the stars fall from the sky, and join in the eternal dance about the crimson trees? She found that she knew as little as she did when her eyes first opened to the world those 40 years past.
In her fear, she felt little reprieve in the sight of her cabin. She heard her pup bark at her door, but it brought about as much comfort as the sight of her cabin. The asteroid was too close, the heat of its shimmering tail too intense. The snow had begun to melt, and the tips of the trees were scorched.
Inside, she found her pup was none the wiser about the Cull. Even as the hut sweat from the growing flames, the pup seemed blissfully unaware as he awaited his final dinner. She didn't have the appetite to join her pup, but he didn't seem to mind as he ate down his food without even the time to breathe. By the time the food was gone, the blue fire of the asteroid had consumed the door, and he began to bark wildly as if he could prevent the Cull.
Some primal urge within her mind told her to join in barking at the growing fire, but her cynical awareness of her situation prevented her from even the smallest of comfort that she might have control.
The fire surrounded her, blinding blue light consuming every inch of her world, the laughing faces of the Star-Men faintly visible in the flicker. The crackle of the fire rang out like the sirens in the sea.
She spent her final moment hoping that she would see her mother again once the Cull reached her. A memory of her mother reached out to her mind. She heard her mother's melodic voice speaking of her father, the time before, and the Culling. She saw images of her childhood, the nightly skywatching for the Asteroid of the Culling, the eternal wait. She remembered how time felt when the Culling was a distant eventuality, not a present threat. She remembered her mother's scent, her father's long-lost touch. She remembered when her dog died, and the pup was born. She remembered her mother's final words as she gazed up into the vacant skies awaiting the end.
"Watch the Skies, girl."
She held onto her pup, as the fire reached her feet. The roof of her cabin fell onto her head, and she was gone.