Returning home

I've always known that we'll return there. And even if not now, then years later.
In a cold moonlit evenings, I steared at horizon, where for a hundred kilometers away, a cold lump blackened on the horizon - City.
Sometimes it seemed that somewhere on the spiers of the towers, barely noticeable from here, were visible signal lights, flashing quietly in the gusts of the wind.
They call back. Alluring...
We were standing at the edge of the city. Adjusting the straps of the backpacks, I confidently led the group behind me.
Welcome home ...