Sun Mote Copse bedtime stories

To Phox's credit, it was a pretty good story. Alyx's disinterest in it was less an issue with the content itself and more of a her problem. Specifically, an inability-to-understand-what-was-being-said problem. Phox had barely said two sentences before his younger daughter's attention began to wander, first to the arm thrown casually over her back, then the waving blades of grass underfoot, then the night sky, then back to Meerkat, whose undivided attention remained on Phox. Alyx puffed out her cheeks, bored, and then spotted something spectacular.

It winked out of sight just past Phox's ear. WHASSA? she asked, right about at the point where Phox began the redemption part of his story, and Meerkat blurted that she wanted to be a mouldy shitskin or whatever the heck that word was. Alyx had no idea what any of that meant. What she did know was that one of the winking stars from the sky had come down to twinkle right next to her father's ear, and that was way more interesting than all these words she didn't know.

Wriggling like a little grub, she attempted to extricate herself from under Meerkat's limb so she could rush toward Phox and get a better look at her discovery—a wee, unassuming firefly, in fact.