The lantern in his hand, the key to the sun, lit up the dim interior of the cabin as Oco raised it to see the candles and unlit fireplace sitting quietly around the room. "I guess I won't need to light any of these tonight." He smiled. Pulling off his trailing striped hat and hanging it by the door along with his coat and mittens, Oco tugged off his boots and climbed onto a chair then up on to the dinner table nestled across the room from the fireplace to the right of the door. He was a small fellow even for his age being nearly eleven years but barely to his lanky grandfather's waist, and although big enough to sit at the table properly, he enjoyed perching himself as high as he could when the chance presented itself.
Sitting comfortably in the middle of the table Oco set the lantern down in from of him. With his hat off Oco's black hair glistened and grinned with melting frost, water droplets swinging from points of hair, twinkling laughter in the light as they dropped to the table around him. Oco leaned forward intently his bright, green eyes peering closely at the key to the sun. He wondered at it's soft brilliance. Reaching his hand out, it's surprisingly cool surface. It seemed to flow and shift like liquid. Remembering how easily it had shifted from the orb into the shape of the little lantern. Oco wondered. Cupping the orb in his hands, "I wonder if I can make it look like something other than a lantern?" He mumbled to himself.
Turning the orb, over and over in his hands. He shook it. Nothing happened. Looking at it, "What do I want it to turn into?" Even as he mused, the orb seemed to grow more malleable in his hands, the light undulating almost as if in expectation. Maybe a bird. Oco liked birds. They were like summer. Bright and full of warm songs, he always imagined that summer was a bird. A huge bright bird, full of vivid oranges, bright yellows, and emerald greens. He always thought it would be nice to see summer and shout up to it "Hallo Summer!" Even as it flew by.
It was winter now though, and the birds were scarce. Yes, a bird would do nicely. Looking at the orb he waited. Nothing happened. Scratching his head, he thought maybe something else. A fan, maybe he could fan away the cold like his grandma fanned away the heat. The orb, changed. It shifted, the light flowing smoothly into a wide summer fan. Oco leaped to his feet, standing on the table his bright eyes sparkling with wonder and surprise. Maybe it could only become things without wings or beaks. Oco, was brimming with excitement. A dog, he thought, maybe a dog then. The orb, the fan didn't change. He frowned. Maybe not animals at all then. That was ok though. Nothing could dampen his excitement now. If it could change into a lantern and a fan... The possibilities spread out before him so that he couldn't slow his thoughts to pick something. The orb was something right out of the adventures his grandfather often told him after supper. Oco felt like the man from the tale of the Hero and the Talisman. That's it!
He picked up the fan and it shifted back into the orb of liquid light. it was sort of like his talisman. Could it be a necklace? It changed. He put it over his head, it fit perfectly. Grabbing it from his neck, he thought, a rope. It shifted and changed again. This time it expanded and lengthened, becoming a long rope that's length fell from the table and rolled across the floor. In each shape the key to the sun, Oco's talisman, changed shape, but maintained it's appearance of flowing, liquid light. In each shape it took on the consisitency of the imitated material but still held it's soft warmth. Oco laughed, as he danced about the table with his talisman. The orb flashing and changing shapes as fast as the flickering of a candle. A knife, a vase, a chair, whose cumbersome weight almost knocked him off the table, a hat, a bowl, a sword.
The snow continued to winter down and the pines peered in from the dark outdoors with their tall curiosity watching the small boy playing with the key to the sun, they hoped that the boy would return it, before the cold and gloom came, the cold was already here. The pines shivered and swept a frost minion from the window pane. They hoped.
The wind howled
As the cold lashed it to move still faster, deeper into the woods. "To the gloom, we must inform him, a boy has found it. The key, the key to the sun."
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