Chapter 4
The little girl with big brown eyes stared up into the heavens.
The obsidian cloak of night shimmered with twinkling stars, and the hilltop’s long grasses waved with each breath of wind, tickling the girl’s cheeks as she lay on her back. She brushed an errant ringlet off her face and settled back again, resting her head on her hands.
“The stars are brighter tonight,” she said.
Her voice was small in the vast expanse, and it was made even smaller by the giant winged lion lying beside her. His wings sprawled to either side, illuminating the ground around him and creating a halo of green light. The adaiman hopped nearby, dotting the hilltop with their glowing feathers.
“They are as they ever were.” Matanta’s deep voice rumbled with solemnity.
“But they look brighter tonight,” the little girl insisted. “The moon has taken her rest, so the stars can shine more without her there.”
“The stars have not changed, little one.” Matanta reached a paw up and swept it across the sky.
“It is only your perception of them that has changed. I have lived long enough to see stars come and go, to watch them disappear after they flash with light, but for you, child, the stars will hardly change at all between the dawn of your birth and the dusk of your death. These stars were always there, and they shone just as brightly a few nights ago as they do now.”
The girl tutted, but a low grumble from her large friend made her pause before she spoke again.
“I can just see them better,” she said. “When the moon shines so bright, the other stars look dimmer.”
“And when the moon is gone, you see how brightly they’ve shone all along.” Matanta wiggled side to side, scratching his back on the ground and making the nearby adaiman sputter in protest.
Abbakka giggled as the tiny birds chirped angrily at their enormous friend. “It is the same with the adaiman.”
“Hm?” Matanta asked. He struggled to hear her over the squawking birds. “Shh!”
His admonishment silenced the little adaiman. A few gave one last chirp of resentment and then settled back down.
“Look at the ones over there.” Abbakka pointed farther down the slope of the hill, where the birds cast their glowing light and gave the slope green freckles. “They look so bright compared to the ones sitting next to you.”
The little bird closest to Matanta puffed its feathers, making itself as big as it possibly could; then it turned to face the giant lion. It had to crane its head up just to meet Matanta’s golden eye, and it deflated as soon as it found the mighty lion’s gaze.
“Yes, there are those who cast shadows upon those around them,” Matanta said.
He used his massive paw to lift the crestfallen adaiman onto his chest. The little bird chirped happily and nudged the lion’s puffy fur until it formed a little nest for itself and settled down.
Matanta continued. “But sometimes we find those whose light brings out our own. And we are far stronger and brighter together than we ever could be alone.”
The adaiman trilled contentedly from Matanta’s chest.
The little girl with big brown eyes nodded and looked back up to the sky.
She pointed to a pair of stars. One was undoubtedly brighter than the other, but their close proximity and shared light made them stand out in the sky.
“Like those two. You can see their light better because they’re close together. ”
She lowered her voice. “They help each other shine. Just like me and my sister.”
Matanta neither agreed nor disagreed, but his brows pulled together.
“Ektha is to be the rani of Ullal,” Abbakka explained. “She must always shine brighter. But I can stay by her side. I can make sure she shines brightly, even when a light threatens to flood her.”
Matanta’s thunderous laugh shook the hillside. Abbakka sprang to her feet in surprise, and the nearby adaiman swirled into the sky. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
“I am not asking—I’m just telling you—I would like to know what’s so funny.” Abbakka tapped her foot impatiently. The lion waved her off, swinging his enormous paw through the air as he continued to laugh.
Finally, he turned onto his belly and faced Abbakka, who was still standing. His bright yellow eyes searched her dark brown ones for any hint of dishonesty. “You mean to tell me you think you are the smaller star? That dim little thing over there?”
Abbakka stood behind his paw and followed his line of sight past his raised claw. She nodded when she saw which star he pointed to.
The winged green lion lowered his paw and turned back to her, shaking his head and making his mane shush through the air. “You are not a small, shy star. You are not a speck in the night’s sky.”
The entire hillside went silent and waited for him to finish.
“Little one, you are the sun.”