Phantom Hollow it's a dangerous business, going out your door

Phocion curled against Cortland, the two of them a beaming puddle of silver and gold in the dark woods. He drew in a breath, smiling, his eyes fluttering closed as he was taken suddenly back to his first days, with the tribe. How fresh the stories had seemed, then! When he hadn't known every twist and turn, each gory detail. He hoped he could bring that magic to Cortland.

"When the world was new, there were two moons," he began in hushed tones. "They were inseparable, in love, joined for eternity. Fengari and his wife, Erastia." He lifted his eyes skyward, in a brief homage to his god, before he continued. "In those days, there was no day, only the peaceful night. And the night grew brighter and more beautiful with each child Erastia bore."

The stars. Little by little, one pinprick of light after another, they filled the sky, arranging themselves into shapes and patterns, cliques and bands. "The asteria," Phocion explained. "Each star has a name, and is unique. We all have our own star to guide us. Yours could be Chrysos; mine is Filos."

He sighed and pressed his head back against Cortland's, feeling suddenly drowsy, giddy. "When things were right, in the time of the two moons, the stars would dance, and the wolves with them," Phocion whispered, flicking his tail in time with a beat only he heard. "Spinning round and round, twisting, leaping. No one alive has seen it--but the tales live on, passed down from generation to generation.

"I tell these stories because I, too, want to dance with the stars," he breathed.