Of Stars, and Blankets, and...
It's just a blanket, sewed of rabbit skins, soft and furry. Just my old blanket.
But it still has her scent. She smells of bramble flowers and dreamberry juice and all the smells of the greenest season. She slept here today, with me.
And more.
We lay down beside each other, and at first I thought it was a ticking game she wanted to play.
But it was another game entirely.
The way she touched me, I have no words for it.
I know what it means. I've spied on the elders often enough, when they're sure nobody is watching, I'm watching.
I've learned a good few tricks that way.
I know the game but I've never played it. And I've no words to say how it feels.
I bet she would teach me the words. If I dared ask.
She could teach me a lot. But she thinks I'm still a cub, most of the time.
Not today, though.
Things sure have gotten complicated after I kissed Foxfur.
The way I blushed, the way I stammered, it made her step back. Made her doubt if I'm ready.
I'll have to prove her I am.
I leave my den, climb to the highest branches of the Father Tree. The sky is cloudy tonight. Even the moons are hidden in the blackness above.
No stars for me tonight. Yet I know they're up there somewhere. And when I look at the clouds, hoping for them to part just for a moment, I know the stars are there.
And I wonder, if they clouds are a blanket. If the stars dance secret dances up there, when nobody can see them. If they leave their accustomed positions and embrace each other hastily in blue and white fire.
It is a silly thought, but it cheers me up a little. I descend from the branches and I climb into my den and wrap myself in the blanket we hid under.
It still has her scent.