Moonless Night and Starry Birthday
After finishing the stone grabbing ceremony on that quiet night, I noticed Rippling Earth Serian's attitude toward me had changed noticeably. She was always kind, but before, there had been a clear air of elder dignity about her. Now, it felt like she was a much older sister—zero distance. She suddenly clung to me so affectionately that it was disorienting. Clinging was supposed to be my role.
While hugging me tight and bombarding me with head pats, Serian suddenly started tempting me with druidism. "Are you interested in druidism?" Was this stone grabbing just a disguised druid recruitment test? I didn't dismiss or look down on druidism, but honestly, grass-tying... it was a bit much. The offer was so sudden that I vaguely brushed it off, saying I'd look around at other options first.
Like the saying that the big bear does the work and the little bear takes the spoils, I'd successfully claimed all the loot from the demon soldiers that Bear Elder had smashed through with his hard work. With my red bundle swollen fat on my shoulder, I returned to the wagons grinning ear to ear.
"Santa is coming~."
"Sis is back!"
A stampede of quick-witted kids swarmed me, spotting the bundle on my back. Their eyes wouldn't leave the gift sack. When I set it down, their heads dropped with it. They looked like cats eyeing toys—it cracked me up.
I'd snagged all the demon loot, but most of it was stuff we didn't really need. Dead weight if unused, so junk went to the kids, weapons to the adults.
We decided the kids' pick order with eeny-meeny-miny-moe. Sonya was the most pumped and snagged first pick: a wooden bead bracelet painted in bright colors. Way too loose for little Sonya; she had to double-loop it to fit. The others each grabbed theirs too. Trinkets to my eyes, but to kids who'd never handled such things, they seemed plenty satisfying. Or maybe just the thrill of having more "mine."
Seeing them bouncing around with their prizes made me swell with pride too.
After the kids, I took the leftovers to the adults. Spread out a red flag-blanket and piled the goods on it; folks eating and resting gathered one by one. Sitting behind the opened bundle like a peddler, I felt just like one. Not wrong.
"Come on, come on! Not every day! The legendary greatsword wielded by the demon general! Who among you will claim the glory of its ownership?!"
My own hype for a demon commander's blade. I knew zilch about swords, but even I could tell it was a good one. The beastkin who did know swords got hyped.
"Big and beautiful blade. Just like me."
"...The, the sword is calling to me!"
Chance at demon loot—beastkin rushed forward. Aggro pulled perfectly. I'd brought it to distribute anyway, but no freebies.
This barbaric world was primitive by my modern standards: lifestyle, hygiene, culture—all abysmal. Not weak people, weak environment. I always wanted to fix it. So I auctioned the loot with a debate tournament.
The topic was this:
【Why do diseases spread easily in crowded places? And how can we prevent them even in crowds?】
Most logical conclusion wins the prizes. At first, hands shot up to answer first.
"Cuz there're so many weaklings! Just get stronger!"
Barbaric answer. Before I could react, other beastkin shot back rebuttals. No way they'd hand over a sword for that—pride on the line.
After a few rounds of back-and-forth, arguments gained structure. When they'd hit knowledge limits and veer off, I'd drop hints.
"Diseases come from tiny invisible things called germs."
"Evil spirits, huh! Kill the germs, no disease."
"Can't see 'em—how? Even you hawks got sharp eyes, but that's impossible."
Soon it turned tribal: bears with bears, hawks with hawks, pooling ideas and arguing.
"What’s all this racket? Came to see, and it's you, Ursa?"
"Bear Elder."
I tossed the same question at the spectating Bear Elder.
"Tricky one, not easily answered. From my experience, it's not numbers—it's quality."
"Oh."
"Poor quality folk lack cultivation; body and mind rot. Filthy, turbid. Like white cloth staining easy—people too. Filth spreads."
Not exact match, but close to my answer: hygiene via experience. Logical.
"Bear Elder's answer seems best? Crown you winner?"
"No need. Why reclaim what I gave you? Looks good—keep going."
Debate raged on; snake tribe reached "cleanliness," snagged the loot.
"We'll melt these for more pots!"
Tiger beastkin wailed, "That precious stuff!" First Ursa Cup Beastkin Tribal Debate Tournament ended.
"Don't forget today's talk—wash your hands clean!"
Reminded 'em of the takeaway, dispersed the crowd.
"Looked fun."
"Yeah. More enjoyable to run than I thought."
Barbarians weren't dumb—just no modern knowledge. Hearing real logic flow convinced me: tons of potential.
"Thanks, Bear Elder. Couldn't have done this without you."
I thanked him. Without his loot handover for my ceremony, no tournament.
"No thanks needed. It was Rippling Earth's gift to you—thank her. My gift's separate."
"Huh?"
"Look forward to tonight."
Guess the loot wasn't the gift. Night gift? What could it be?
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Sun dipped, darkness blanketed the sky.
Chirrrp chirrrp.
Crickets hidden somewhere joined in chorus with other bugs. Dinner done, night begun—bedtime for kids.
Tucked them in, blew out the wagon's lone candle. Darkness crashed down. Kids this age sleep like power cuts when light vanishes. Soon, steady snores.
Slipped out past the huddled sleeping tots.
"Whoa! So damn dark—what the—nearly tripped."
Plains wild, beastkin barbaric. Post-sunset light? Just central campfire's glow. Beastkin night vision good—torches hurt distance sight. Night watch ran on moonlight and stars alone.
I had decent bear night eyes. But usually crashed early with kids, so rare night strolls. Never this pitch black.
Vague unease. Paused for eyes to adjust. Vision cleared some, still dim.
Out here in the dark? Promised meet with Bear Elder. "Story to tell." Maybe birth secret? Half excited, half tense, I headed to the spot, heart fluttering yet hesitant.
Spot: hill short distance from camp. Nearing boundary, two snake beastkin uncles on watch. Murmuring—chatting time away. I'd done year of urban sentry duty for residency; bullshitted with mentors too. Nostalgic... not really, but wistful. They'd miss post-shift ramen bliss.
Approached with noise. They recognized me, waved me through pre-explanation: "Dark out—careful." Bear Elder tipped 'em off.
Crunch crunch.
Trudged up ankle-high grass. Gentle, broad hill. Bear Elder already atop.
"Came."
"Yeah."
Neared him. Cloth spread on ground. Nice touch. Sat lightly; he spoke.
"Path hard?"
"Nah. Well, darker tonight. Took care."
"Why so dark?"
"...Dunno? Clouds?"
"Lie down."
He reclined. Why? But I flopped too. Grass cradled back through cloth. Cushy. Sky sprawled above.
"Whoa."
Ever lain on vast plain, no buildings, streetlights, obstructions? Old life: concrete jungle, palm-sized sky scraps. This vista? First. Spectacle. Majestic, breathtaking beauty. Perfect word.
Sky drowned in star ocean. Myriad multicolored stars in Milky Way river, dense star-silk path, sandsize sparks blazing, clamoring "look at me!"
Just stared, dazed. Endless stellar realm. Stars everywhere gaze touched. Yet my surround pitch black—like I'd vanished, stars alone. Distance collapsed. Stars twinkled like nearby dust. Reachable... but no urge. Wouldn't ripple the star sea for that.
Why now? Path here dark enough—could've seen before. Always on plains, not always slept with kids.
Today special. Path forced ground-focus. Before? Countless nights sky-gazing past year. Admired brighter-than-city stars and moon.
But not like this.
"Ah."
Got it. Why stars seemed more tonight. Why ground darker. Fact: fixed stars in sky. Yesterday, today, tomorrow—till burned out.
Truth: tonight naturally dark. Cloudless clear sky. Every facing star said so. Stars shine when met eyes, too distant/faint to light ground direct. Dark night, sun's void filled by other: moon.
"No moon. That's why so many stars."
Biggest brightest sky orb absent. New moon day—year's sole moonless night. My birthday: brightest starshine night.