Fly Me to the Moon

Stars! That was what the lights were called! She vaguely remembered her mother saying that before, but the name hadn't stuck, not until she could see them and put a picture to the name. Oh, right, that was where her middle name came from! Now it all made sense. Her eyes scoured the sky while it darkened with every second, but still the stars weren't out yet. How long was she expected to wait?! Crickets were already singing their nighttime songs around the plains now, and hundreds of fireflies had appeared all over the place, but still no stars! Lazy, late stars...

Satira noticed how nervous Mortis looked, tense and uncomfortable. And that squeak he'd made! She frowned a little. Did he not like her or something? Well, then she'd just have to make him like her! Tira got to her feet and clambered over his massive foot until she was sitting nestled between his forepaws, wriggling to get herself comfortable against him. "Oh, well, that's a shame," she murmured with a disappointed sigh when Mortis explained he couldn't actually fly. There went her theory of other flying wolves, or of going to the moon to be closer to the stars. But he did say something else that sounded exciting. "What do you mean jumping from the tops of trees? Can you climb trees?" she asked innocently, fixing him with big, glistening eyes and a slight curious tilt of her tiny head. "How do you get up trees, Uncle Mortis?" If he couldn't fly, how did he get up the trees to jump off them in the first place?

"Satira Fatalis"