Moonshadow
Lorraine Hanlon Comanor Moonshadow: An ancient god who is said to ride into battle on a black dragon, attacking without mercy, killing all. —Urban Dictionary
Gathered together on the airsteps of Sabena’s Boeing 707, the eighteen members of the United States world figure skating team are ready to depart. Laurence, out in front, her smile caught in the apex of “cheese.” She holds the association’s sign in her right hand, her skate bags in the left, her feet in black pumps placed in dancers’ third position. Just behind her, the rest of the Boston contingent, her big sister—Little Maribel—and her partner Dudley, Greg and Bradley, the other pairs and dancers all the way up to the open door where two crew members wait to welcome them aboard. Teenagers, for the most part, some still in party mode from recent wins at Nationals and North Americans, everyone in winter coats against the chill of the February night. That photo, and one other of just the Boston skaters at Nationals two weeks earlier—the teammates I’d trained with for the past nine years—are still in my office today. As the group turns to board, Captain Lambrechts and Jean Roy, former Royal Belgian Airforce pilots, are finishing the preflight checks in the cockpit. A few minutes later, happy chatter in the aisles, followed by the popping and slamming of the overhead luggage bins, as the skaters stash boots and costumes—critical items that can’t be chanced to loss.