Just a short story which I wrote. Hope you enjoy it! :)
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The Fallen Star
Snowflakes fell, twisting and turning in an almost weightless manner before landing gently on the ground, which was at least two feet deep with snow. The forest was deathly silent. The once thriving trees now stood barren, their branches dusted with a thin layer of snow, their trunks covered in frost. The forest was unnaturally peaceful, quiet to the point where the silence seemed to fill every creature’s lungs, choking them until their senses were filled with nothing but the barren world of loneliness.
I padded on gloomily in the forest, weariness evident in my drooping ears and limp tail. The forest never seemed to end; everywhere I looked, the piercing white of snow stung my eyes. “A whole day gone, and not a single hint of prey to be found.” A disappointed sigh said out the exact same words I had been muttering in my heart a moment before. I glanced towards my sister, just in time to see her gaze up at the sky, where the first stars were starting to twinkle in the twilight. “Don’t worry too much, Star. We’ll have food once spring arrives,”I encouraged, giving Star a quick lick on the ear. “But I’m hungry,”Star grumbled. She stopped to shake the snow out of her paws, a look of disgust plastered on her face. “And all this snow is making me sick.” I stopped too, sitting back on my haunches with my tail curled neatly around my paws. “Don’t mention it,”I agreed, turning my snout to the darkening sky above. “I can’t wait for the rabbits to start running.” Star flopped down to the ground with a huff, then tilted her head to gaze at the wide expanse of streaked crimson above. For a moment, we sat in companionable silence, enjoying the spectacular view of the twilight sky.
“Hey, Moon? This reminds me of Mother.” Star’s soft murmur pulled me back into reality. I stiffened, catching the sadness in her eyes. “On days when the sky was clear, she would bring us out of the den—where the stars could be seen—and tell us stories. Tales of the stars. Remember the story of the spirit wolves? Mother said that when wolves passed away, their spirits would drift up to join the stars. They would become part of a much, much bigger pack, along with their ancestors, with the moon as their Alpha. They would be home.” Star paused, searching among the scattered stars in the sky for something she couldn’t see. “Moon? Could one of these stars be Mother’s spirit? Do you think she’s still watching over us?” I nodded solemnly. “I don’t know if Mother’s story is true, but if it is, I’m sure she will protect us.” Star fell silent, and we sat together, gazing at the distant stars, with memories flickering in our minds.
Now that Star mentioned it, I recalled the words Mother had said when she had first told the story. As the Alpha, the moon must always protect the star. We had merely been cubs then, barely a season old and blissfully unaware of the dangers which lurked in the forest. Star hadn’t managed to capture the hidden meaning in Mother’s words, but how could I miss it? I was the moon. I was the one who was supposed to protect Star. That was to be expected, of course, since I was the older of the litter. That was the last story which Mother had told us. The next day, she had leaped out of the den, presumably to hunt, and told us to stay inside, no matter what happened. Then we had heard a clap of thunder—or that was what it had sounded like—and threatening yelps from animals which we had never heard of before. Mother never came back. We waited until night fell, but there was still no sign of Mother, no hint of her familiar milky scent. Out of hunger, we ventured out of the cave, and found, to our horror, a grotesque mess of red liquid, mere tree-lengths away from the den.
We were what Mother called “lone wolves”—wolves which had no pack and could only fend for themselves. With no mentor, we had to work out the skills of hunting based purely on our instincts. Maybe wolves were more intelligent—somehow, two vulnerable wolf cubs managed to pull through, feeding on tiny rodents and whatever fruit we could find. Nature favoured us, giving us rocks to hide under in the rain and juicy fruits to eat whenever we needed prey. We had managed to survive—at least for now. Luck had probably contributed tremendously to our survival, but either way, here we were—healthy young wolves which were experiencing their second winter. Closing my eyes, I sent a silent prayer to the sparkling stars above. Mother, if you can hear me, please help us pull through this winter.
