Firefly Glen cutting shapes

It was a question that often came up, what the stars'd tell. They told many different things to many different wolves. To Charon in particular, they spoke. He had at one time felt destined for greatness, chosen by them, but that wasn't anything he shared publicly very much anymore. He still felt there was something, and he knew he was special in a great manner, but time would tell what it meant. He was tired of explaining this to strangers.

So he went with a more standard reply. "They're often used to navigate, and there are many constellations that draw pictures in the skies. They're a good guideline to tell stories with, too." But he didn't think Dirge the kind of wolf to be interested in a story, and he truthfully didn't feel like telling one either. "But for me... I mostly like not what they tell me, but what they don't. Their silence." He glanced up again, feeling content just to be accompanied by his good friends.

They watched the stars for another little while until eventually, Charon said his good-byes to the other wolf and made his way home again.