Moonspear a bullet on fire

Slavik had been in the midst of a hunt when the star fell. A fat and late bird pecked through the leaf litter, unaware of the predator that followed them. The boy used the cover of night to hunt, his golden pelt only twinkling occasionally in moonbeam. His eyes were locked on his prey, he was mere feet from launching himself at this prey. Suddenly there was a loud whistle, like no sound he’d ever heard before. Ears flattened to his skull and his heart skipped a beat, his eyes for once leaving his prey and looking to the sky.

What he saw was horrific. A glowing, burning speck falling from above. A star, at first so slowly, but once it had broken their atmosphere it was like a rocket, and the impact came only seconds after that. He could feel it, the groaning of the earth at the angry heavens, a rumble at his feet. He could see it, at one of the higher peaks of their mountain a plume of fire followed by its simmering breath.

A voice in his mind told him not to go after it, but every other primal instinct tugged his paws towards it. At a hurried pace he left behind the bird, which had since flown away in fear, to hunt a star instead. When he arrived at the crash site, Arcturus had already gathered there looking at a blackened crater with a disgusted face. Slavik moved to stand by the boy’s side, the sulfuric scent filling his nostrils as well. He said nothing, just marveled over the simmered fire ball, and how much smaller it looked from here.