Harold rang in the new year with Lucy and Jasfoup on the East patio with her mother watching, unseen, from the shadows. To be fair, it was Barghela the gargoyle doing the actual ringing and Harold just took credit for it. With his five-year old daughet wrapped up tight against the hard frost, he and Jasfoup lit a dozen floating lanterns, sending them up into the night sky until they were just an orange speck in the distance, lost against the gibbous moon.
"Make a wish," he said as each lantern filled with warm air and rose. "We can send these directly to heaven."
Lucy squeezed her eyes shut to wish each time, then scoured the skies for any signs of a pegasus of her very own.