The saga continues. Yet another twist of perspective, would love to hear what you think of this one. And for the sake of convenience, here are one, two, and three, although they are not closely related, so I can assure you that not having read them won’t change this story for you much at all. Enough rambling, enjoy 
It is dark. There is no sound in the dark. He thinks…something. He’s not sure what he thinks in the dark. About thinking. About the dark. There is no sound. There is nothing to feel. There is the dark. You don’t know about the dark. You haven’t been in dark like this. Where he is, there is darkness. Nothing more.
But then the light comes. From where? Does he go to the light? Is the light coming to him? He isn’t sure, he never is. He’ll probably never know, but that’s okay. He’s okay with not knowing, he doesn’t need to know. He is too busy thinking about what comes with the light. The light is getting brighter, soon there will be sound. If he is needed for finer works, he might even get to feel.
She tells him what to do, and he listens, because he knows she brought the light. She needs his help, otherwise she wouldn’t bring the light. The sound. Maybe even the feel. Sometimes he wishes she would call him just to bring the light, but she doesn’t, she calls him only when she has need. But that’s okay, so long as she brings the light.
He sees the swirling snow. He sees the rocks. He sees her, shivering. She is cold, very cold. Now he can hear the wind, the chatter of her teeth. She is colder than he thought. He can’t feel, knows it isn’t coming. That’s okay, he doesn’t think he wants to feel that cold. She points to where the path is steep, where boulders block the way. She wants him to move the boulders, he can feel her intent, it comes as clear as the light.
He moves. He likes to move, doesn’t get to do it often. He hears her mutterings as he begins to slowly lift the boulders. They are heavy. There are many of them. But he will move them. He moves slow, slow because it keeps the light longer. But not too slow, then he isn’t worth calling. Isn’t worth the light. The thought makes him move a little faster, but not much, he doesn’t want to lose the light. She mutters about being crazy, about them saying it was impossible alone. She says she should have listened to them.
“It doesn’t matter now. Have to keep going forward. No choice but to find The Five on the other side of the mountain.” He likes to listen, not as much as he likes to move, as much as he likes to see, but still he likes it. He moves the last of the boulders, she can pass now. It gets harder to hear, soon he can’t. The light fades. He watches as his hands and arms crumble, back into rocks. He doesn’t feel sad. He will miss the light, but he hopes it will come again. Sometimes he helps build shelters. She will need shelter, it is cold, very cold. The light is gone now.
In the dark he thinks about the light. About the words she said. He isn’t sure what they mean, but he thinks about them, and he will for a long time. Until he doesn’t anymore. Then he will think about the light. Then he will think only about the dark. It is so very dark. He hopes she calls him again soon, he misses the light. Why does he have to leave the light? He doesn’t think she has to leave the light. It doesn’t seem fair. That’s okay though, as long as he gets to experience the light. He is sure there are those like him that never have. There have to be. So he is grateful for the light. He hopes it will come again soon.