Shortly after the upholstery of a clouded sky had been threaded in the air and started pressing the earth, night came and it's late hours went on furthering the new day in a pitch-black blinded stillness, no moon to illuminate the lake, not even the rim of a moon, and no visible stars to observe deep beyond the clouds. But since capitulation after exhaustion had been of general practice, no one noticed the semblance of the passing night, and when she woke up and went to the nearest window, vaguely remembering yesterday's sunset scenery, she witnessed the already awakening morning and concluded the sun was presently rising over the hill and would be revealing itself from the back of the building – even if in that early hour the sun was yet to totally surmount the hill and the lake still exhibited a slow moving mist, gently evaporating in the now grayish dawn, closer to pale blue than to the silvery confetti she presumed would be sparkling over its waters later on.
She felt him joining her by the window, standing behind her as calmly amazed by the world outside as she was. Silence still reigned in the room, no silhouette rose in sight or otherwise moved besides them, and so it seemed that they had been the first to awake. And when she felt his fingers groping across her forearm, searching downwards the palm of her right hand, she knew it was time to get moving. She turned to him as he reached her hand and met his eyes: dark as night, they revealed a slightly defying smile, completely in accordance with his head moving edgewise and thereby meaning: let's go. She promptly followed him towards their beds, no questions asked, and grabbed a sweater and a jacket under her arm, and knelled to put on her snickers. From that kneeling position, she looked up and saw him reaching for his backpack and producing, quite abruptly, a smaller bag from within, matryoshka-style. He raised it by its handles in a high fist before her face, closed and tough. Certainly this wasn't a frightening gesture, some menacing strong signifier for defiance and fight, barehanded or gunfight, but instead a gesture of boyish joyful secrecy, perhaps the mirror-signifier of the wonder magicians create on their audiences when they pull the white rabbit, or whatever else, from their black top hats. In this instance, he produced the bag as part of a magic trick, she got it, but she wasn't in the mood to act the correlated wondering part. In fact her intelligence laid a strict barrier there, precluding her from entering the game. And since this opposing reaction was not new for neither of them, neither of them felt surprised when she simply got herself straight up and waited for him to be ready and get on the move.