A Lullaby's Echo

The twilight deepened, painting the sky in hues of amethyst and rose, a tender farewell to the day. Luna, her fur still damp from the morning dew, lifted her muzzle. The air grew cooler, carrying the scent of pine and the distant murmur of the stream. Above, the first shy stars began to prick through the velvet cloak of evening. Her brothers, Sol and Stella, tumbled near their den, their playful yips softening as they too noticed the shift in the world. Sol, ever restless, was chasing a flitting moth, his tail a blur of excitement, while Stella, her ears perked, watched the darkening forest with wide, gentle eyes.

But Luna’s gaze was drawn upward, past the rustling leaves and the reaching branches, to where a pale disc was slowly emerging from the horizon. It was the moon, a whisper of silver against the fading light. She remembered the raven’s words, a secret woven into the fabric of the night: *when the clouds turn to dark and stars shine in the sky pay respect to the all knowing moon and sing a lullaby.* The raven’s voice, a dry rustle of ancient wisdom, echoed in her mind. *When You do the moon will too sing a song for You when the day sky goes by.*

A tremor of anticipation, mingled with a flutter of shyness, ran through Luna. This was it. The moment the raven had promised, a magic whispered from the sky. She nudged Sol, who had finally caught his moth and was now triumphantly sniffing at it. “Sol,” she whispered, her voice soft as falling snow. “Look.”