Firefly Glen where no one goes

Moy stopped at a shallow, moonlit stream and dipped her snout for a drink. The stars twinkled above her head with barely a wispy, blue-black cloud in the sky to obscure them. She had never been much of a stargazer, but they kept her company on long nights spent traveling — nights like tonight, when she willed her strides to be long and her paws enduring.

Moy thought to rest when her ears swiveled in the direction of a familiar voice. Sweet Cethleann! And not just her but a procession of fireflies, their glowing rears shining in the distance.

”Sister!” Moy bounded through the buglit meadow until she reached Cethleann’s side, stopping just short of tackling her in excitement. ”Sister, sister, sister,” Moy crooned, moving to nuzzle the smaller woman’s cheek. ”I missed you! Where are the others? I haven’t heard a note on the wind in days.”

Moy had hugged the mountain foothills after Eshe’s call, climbing their heights for only a short distance before reaching a beautiful, berry-filled, flat meadow on the other side. She’d barely eaten a bush’s worth before homesickness forced her paws, trekking onward through gnarled forest, open grassland, and even a rushing river to find her way to Cethleann’s side.