Don’t look up.
Yes, the sky twists with cerise and silver. Yes, it is pretty, but eyes forward, child.
Can you not simply observe a warning?
Very well! Because, on winter evenings such as these, when the air is cold and the moon is new, that is when the Wilde Jagd rides. Perhaps, if you listen, you will hear the ice-shod hooves, the flutter of blood-black wings, the demonic howls. They come from where the sky is bright, drip their hellish colours across the clouds, and they follow her.
And if you look up, they may decide to follow you.