Chapter XXIII

A STARRY NIGHT

It was an excellent feast.

A picnic, of course, on the Meadow, in the Mountains, next to the Stream. A picnic is the best kind of feast when it’s a warm summer’s night.

At sunset, everyone was tired out, what with eating the many good things grilled on the giant celebration bonfire: the eggplant, the zucchini, the tomatoes, the onions, and the corn. There was hot apple cider and creamy hot chocolate for afterwards, and Tia, Fia, Fion, Mion, Melia and Lui entertained everyone with balalaika music, which they played very well and which was especially pleasant to listen to under the evening sky.

Mercy and Justice were there with another woman, older than them but even more beautiful. The two younger women treated her with the greatest respect. This was Truth, the Daughter of Time, and she was enjoying herself with her old friends. Lily was fascinated by the three women and wanted to speak to them. But she was shy and decided to wait for morning. “So much already happened today, what with withstanding the Forces of Evil and all.” And she was happy sitting with Snowflake and the Dog and Tuxton—so happy that she never wanted the evening to end.

Then night fell, as night always does. Before the moon came up, the sky filled with a million stars.

One by one, the Teddy Bears yawned, stretched, and lay themselves out on pallets on the cool, springy grass of the meadow. One by one they fell asleep. Even Mercy and Justice, sitting with Truth, drowsed as Tia, Fia, Fion, Mion, Melia and Lui finished their last song and lay down for the night. Truth herself, who never sleeps, closed her eyes, and rested in her own deep thought.

All of the Toys and Animals and People yawned, falling asleep, one by one, under the brilliantly starry sky.

Just one bonfire was left, a small one, and that was the one around which sat the Dog, and Tuxton, and Snowflake, who nuzzled his head under Lily’s arm. They drank steaming mugs of hot chocolate and whipped cream. The Dog lapped up his drink from a wide-mouthed bowl.

Tuxton toasted Lily. She ducked her head, embarrassed. But grinning shyly, she toasted him in return.

Lily yawned. She wanted to stay awake. She wanted to discuss the amazing events of the day, and to make plans. What would they do now, all of them? What brave and noble goals could they hope to achieve? What would they... what would they... what would they... what would they...

Lily tried to stay awake. But she had tired herself out enough, and, sliding into a well-earned rest, she put down her empty chocolate mug on the rush mats beside her, curled up on a blanket at Snowflake’s side, and fell asleep.

Days have to come to an end. That’s the way it is with them. And even heroes have to sleep sometime.

In the sky, with the rising of the moon, came one Star that even the moon’s light couldn’t withstand. This Star was more brilliant than all the others, and it blotted out the rest with its light.

Tuxton and the Dog and Snowflake, now the only ones awake in the whole of the sleeping camp, sat together in companionable silence. Every so often, Tuxton would stoke the fire. These were the only ones who saw the star. Tuxton pointed at it, quiet. The Dog, troubled, gave a quick nod. Snowflake said and did nothing, only gazed at it, steady, with his jewel-colored eyes.

 

This Star was more brilliant than all the others, and it blotted out the rest with its light.

They listened, for a moment, in the mountain silence.

Then they heard it. The distant flapping of wings.

As the Star came closer and closer, the sound, too, grew louder.

Snowflake’s emerald eyes never left it, but the Dog exchanged a look with the silly-faced Bear. Both turned and looked at Lily, who lay sleeping by the fire. The Dog moved as if to guard her. The Star came closer and closer. Tuxton jumped up, too.

As the Star came into sight, the sound was explained. For she was an Angel. She was a beautiful, golden-brown skinned Angel, with sleek and shining black hair, deep black eyes, and delicate, pointed ears. She was well known to the three by the fire. They looked at her anxiously. As she landed on her light and graceful feet, Tuxton greeted her for them all.

“Star,” Tuxton squeaked. “Hello, welcome.” His voice sounded anxious, even to him, though he tried to keep it from seeming that way.

Star smiled at them all, warming her hands by the fire. Lily breathed evenly and smiled in her sleep. Still the three did not relax—Snowflake never took his eyes off the Angel, and Tuxton and the Dog exchanged uneasy looks. They shifted back and forth on their paws.

After a moment, the Angel straightened, as if she were going to do now what she had meant to all along. Her wings, which had folded when she landed, opened out now back to their full and glorious width. And she bent to gather Lily up in her arms.

“I was afraid of that,” Snowflake said in a quiet voice, and a crystal teardrop fell from his eyes onto the meadow grass where it lay sparkling in the light from Star’s eyes.

Tuxton just squeaked. “Does she...does she have to go, Star?” the Bear said in a timid voice. He put a paw out as if to touch his sleeping friend, then let it drop.

“Tuxton,” Star said, and she smiled at the oddity of the name—she had known Tuxton by many different names in many different places and times, but of all of them, this was the silliest and the most endearing. “Tuxton, you know that all deeds done in one world affect all the others. You, of all creatures, know that well.”⁷⁶

“Yes,” Tuxton said, still sad. “Of course I know that, Star.”

“And would you have it any other way?”

Tuxton and the Dog looked at each other, and there was a flash of a second where they might have said that, yes, they would have liked it to be another way. Any other way that would keep and hold this moment. But the feeling passed by, and Tuxton shook his head.

“No, Star,” he said. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“She’s due back in her own world,” Star said, and her voice was sweet and sharp. “That’s where she has to live.”

“Will we... will we ever see each other again?” Tuxton asked. The Dog and Snowflake asked the same question with their eyes. “I mean, of course, in these forms. The way we’ve been together. It has been, for me, one of the best...” But here the Bear’s voice trailed off, and he raised a plush paw to his eyes.

Star didn’t wait for the end of the question. She knew she had no answer for it—even Angels can’t know the Future, which no one knows but One—and she thought it best to take a little step, spring up, and then, before Tuxton had finished, to carry Lily well up into the night time sky.

As Star carried Lily away, the Dog and Snowflake looked after them, and Tuxton Ted waved one last farewell, until the Angel and the little girl were no more than specks in the dimly lit distance.

Star and Lily disappeared into the night sky.

 

“Mush!” he called as he disappeared into the night.