Stardancing for thr wolves

I am not good at dreaming. In a dream, I always see myself sat, leaning against the wall and scared, shivering against the dream.

The delightful humming of the night never reaches me. But, I can't hear the witches scream either. My nights are voiceless, like the souls of those who were murdered.

When the night falls, I know that wolves are out. I know that they see me, and I know that they are howling.

I know! The wolf with my name had told me, he had promised me, but I can't hear them. I tell myself that it's normal, that it is the same for all who had never looked at the moon.

My moon, even in the nights when it's full, is nothing but a black sun. All of my nights are the night of my birth, the night of the dancing stars. That was the night my mother sacrificed my brothers. It wasn't the night of sacrifices. The midwife left, carrying my secret with her.

The life was promised to me, and I live it. The rules of the night are out of my reach, but I had lived among the wolves, so I know.

One day, the night fell. I heard them. The wolf with my name:

― You are dreaming and you can hear me... I told you! I made you a promise.

And then I saw them climbing against the steep slope of the hill just above my river. The moon, the full moon illuminates them.

The fairest among the stars invites me to dance. That is something you can't refuse, not even in a dream.

We dance.

I can't hear the wolves any longer.

The slope and the hill are barely visible.

We are too high up.

We dance.

I can't see the hill.

― But, they can see us - the star tells me - You are now like me. We are the stars.

We dance.

The night... the river...