crossposted on ao3. written in autumn 2021


Full moons were a night of light, the reflections of the moon enveloping the Constant in a pleasant blue hue. Fireflies danced and the terrors of the night were no longer alone in their ability to see during the dark. It was a perfect night to hike out in search of those places not entirely observed during the day, a time where despite the darkness you could see enemies clearly if they approached.

Well, that's probably what Wheeler would be doing had she not been holed up at one of her several camps. Her mind itched for movement and she would fill the silence with tapping her feet irregularly against the earth. Since taking the princess of the Pig Kingdom, she didn't really regret having the little scrap around, but Wilba certainly slowed Wheeler down at times. Like now. Poor thing had a bad run in with some ruin traps, and was recovering her body and mind. And with the full moon, Wheeler knew the piglet would be in for a headache.

Wheeler stood up. "Might as well be useful," she muttered to herself. Unscrewing the lid of a corkscrew barrel, she began sorting out the items inside in a more organized way. Those nasty furballs loved to rummage through anything with the slightest scent of food. Where they were currently located there was no pog den, but after the multitude of previous experiences, it just felt right to have one regardless.

After feeling the barrel was as good as she could muster to give an effort to, Wheeler became dreadfully aware of something. Or rather, aware of the lack of something.

Noise. The jungle was silent.

There was no pitter-patter of weevole limbs in the distance, no buzzing of gnats. No crackles of electricity over by the thunderbirds's way, no roars of territorial spider monkeys. Wheeler observed her surroundings, feeling herself tense up in a ready position without realizing it. Her hand itched to reach for her pew-matic.

Maybe it was the silence, maybe it was the oddness of the night. But something compelled Maybelle Dorothea Wheeler to look up.

She blinked once, twice, shook her head and gazed again. The moon had a crack in it. The moon had a crack in it. That...was not normal. Sure, an apocalypse had happened at least once, but the moon shattering like glass was more unexpected than anything this hellhole had thrown at her yet.

She stared in awe as the crack grew deeper. Wheeler felt as though every creature on the island was seeing what she was as well.

Deeper, and deeper, like a fine crack in ice, until -

Swell. An entire chunk of the moon is gone.

Wheeler didn't know whether to laugh or hide. She watched as the chunk fell down, down, down, she watched with baited breath.

The chunk of the moon fell past the island. Into the unknown.

Wheeler blinked again, pinching her arm through her jacket. Wincing, she came to the conclusion it was real. The moon broke and she didn't know where it went. "It's just gone," Wheeler said. She laughed into her sleeve. "My god, it's just up well and gone!"

She wondered if she could run to the edge of the island and see where it landed. "Well, I suppose I could see where it landed for at least five seconds before I become nothing but a stain, if I really wanted," Wheeler mumbled. Her eyes were wide.

The slightest of sounds from behind her made Wheeler jump back. Wilba was sticking her head out of the tent. The piglet stared for a moment at Wheeler, and she loosened her stance and grip on the pew-matic. "WHATFORE IS'T HAPPENING?" Wilba asked.

Wheeler forced her shoulders to relax. "The moon," she said, pointedly looking up. With a huff, Wilba positioned herself upwards to see the moon properly. When she saw it was broken, she gasped.

"THE MOON TIS BROKE'D," Wilba squealed. "HOW?" Her jaw remained dropped.

"You think I know, kid?" Wheeler replied. Sighing, she started to double-check her backpack for the upteenth time. It was almost morning after all.

"TIS BROKE'D…" Wilba repeated. "WHEREFORE IT GO?" The princess had now crawled out of the tent.

Wheeler tightened the patchwork of the football helmet she had made. "No clue," she grunted. She glanced quickly back up at the sky, a worried look on her face, before resuming the reinforcement of her armor. "Not our problem, I suppose."