The Night of Counting Stars
The Bear Elder taught me about the constellations. It was the clearest night for stargazing we'd had in ages, so we lay side by side, studying the night sky.
"...And that path is the one the sun travels during the day. They call it the ecliptic. The ecliptic always forms a straight line, but its position shifts slightly with the seasons—"
Beastkin tribes had no clocks or calendars. Instead, they gauged time by the sun and seasons by the stars. Stargazing was actually the snake tribe's specialty—reading the sun and moon to predict weather and seasons, and tracking constellations along the ecliptic. As a bear beastkin, the Bear Elder only knew the basics.
But that was plenty. After seeing nothing but primitive ways day in and day out, it felt refreshing to dive into such systematic knowledge. I was surprised at how well-organized their astronomy was, and it was genuinely fun and informative.
The stars in this world had a clear hierarchy. Back in school on Earth, the stars in photos all looked the same without labels—you couldn't tell them apart. But the starry sea before us now had stars boldly declaring their uniqueness. If the surrounding stars were mere dots on black paper, the ones forming constellations stood out sharply to the naked eye. That made it easy to trace the patterns the Bear Elder described.
"So, connect that red star to the one on the right, and you get the nine stars of the Wolf constellation, Lupus. Got it drawn?"
"I get it, but why's it a wolf? Doesn't look like one at all."
"That's not it. The first, third, and fifth are the head. Connect the ones next to them for the body. See the crouching wolf now?"
"Oh."
Earth's constellations often forced unrelated shapes together. But here, they actually matched their names: the Deer with antlers, the Snake in an S-shape, the Tiger evoking its stripes. The distinct features made them fun to draw.
"I've covered the essential constellations and those of the six tribes. Now for the last one."
"The Bear!"
"Right, the Bear. Unlike the scattered, rootless beast constellations, this one's a noble fixture, high and proud."
Sneaky bear hype. Beastkin didn't flaunt it, but they had subtle pride in their kind and slipped in boasts like this when they could.
The Bear Elder turned. I followed, and we faced north. He pointed to one star.
"Recognize that one?"
It was the brightest, most commanding star I'd seen yet. And the only one I knew from Earth.
"The North Star?"
The fixed point at the celestial north pole. While other stars shifted, it held steady, the reference for all northern skies. Every star orbited around it.
"Yes. The noblest star, guiding us so we never lose our way—the North Star. And one year ago, the star that let me find you."
This world's North Star was special. It shone even on full moon nights when others faded, piercing moonlight, clouds, and dawn light. Even in storms.
A year ago, on a rare thundering night on the plains, the Bear Elder had been checking tents late. An unprecedented thunderclap lit the sky. No moon, heavy clouds made it hard to spot the strike, but the lone North Star in the dark guided him. Following it led to me, struck by lightning and unconscious—or so he claimed unilaterally.
I'd brushed it off back then as barbarian superstition. But now I knew better. This was a fantasy world of mysteries, druidism binding grass, things beyond common sense. A star guiding someone? Totally plausible.
"Look beside the North Star. See the seven bright ones?"
The Big Dipper. The most famous part of Ursa Major, identical to Earth's but even clearer.
"Looks like an axe."
"Yes, like a ladle, so they call it the Big Dip—hm? An axe?"
I heard his head whip toward me.
Oh, so 'du' in Big Dipper means ladle ()? I thought it was head ()!
"Hohoho. Now that you mention it, it does look like an axe. Yes, a warrior should see it that way. Others think ladle or plow first. I did too when learning. Ursa, you're better than us. Hohoho."
A barbarian complimented my barbarism. His laugh sounded like, "This savage's head is full of nothing but axe swings." My civilized soul screamed. My face burned with shame—good thing it was dark.
"Now, that Big Dip—er, axe, so Big 'Axe' Seven Stars—"
"Stop."
"...Ahem. Yes. Those seven stars form the Big Dipper, the North Star's guard."
"Guard?"
New term.
"Not sure of the exact meaning myself. There was probably a story once, now lost. Even snakes disagree. I think it's because while other stars circle closer and farther, these stay faithfully by the North Star's side."
"..."
"Imagine the Dipper's handle as a bear's tail, connect them. That's the head, down to the legs—there."
Following his gesture, twenty stars formed a shape.
"Remember it well. That's our bear constellation, Ursa."
"Not Ursa Major?"
Earth had Ursa Major with the Big Dipper and Ursa Minor with Polaris.
"Ursa Major... sounds good, but it's just Ursa. If there's a big one, you'd expect a little, but no Little Bear."
True enough. Ursa stars blazed, but nothing bright enough around Polaris for a minor version. It felt lacking. Maybe because it was one I knew from Earth? But other constellations differed too. Ursa was just one. This regret—maybe proof I couldn't escape being a bear beastkin. An instinct to hype my tribe?
Thus ended the Bear Elder's birthday all-day—no, all-night class. I sprang up from lying down.
"Ugh, dizzy."
Blood rushed to my head; vision spun. I stretched it out, shaking off the wooziness. Felt refreshing.
"Uggggh! Uhhe... Ah, that was fun! Thanks, Bear Elder. Didn't expect it, but I really enjoyed it. Great gift!"
He rose too—a massive figure in seconds. Unreal size.
"The night sky talk was just something I wanted to share. The real gift is separate."
Huh? That wasn't it?
He'd prepared something else.
"Whoa, what? What is it? Why the suspense?"
"Hohoho. Don't be so impatient. Here."
He pulled something from his inner pocket. Slightly smaller than my palm, hard to see in the dark. What?
It was heavy. Feeling the texture with both hands... "A rock?"
A plain rock. Confirmed again—rock. I looked up at him.
What’s with that face.
Why so smug? Was I missing something? Night blindness? Did he think everyone loves rocks like him? ...Possible.
"Weary Steps, Murugan."
Beastkin usually called each other by trace names, honoring their deeds. Elders got "Elder," rarely hearing trace or birth names. But at slip-ups—like the Bear Elder sneezing so hard a tent flew off, or the Deer Elder farting loudly in council—tribe burst into teasing with real names. Giving a rock after all that hype? Classic blunder.
"Mind explaining?"
Murugan's smug face froze. Defend yourself.
"O-oh, misunderstanding. This rock's not ordinary."
"Rare shape, yeah. Flower bud?"
"You see it! N-no, not like that. Relax your face..."
My glare made him rush.
"It's the flower blooming by you when I first found you."
"Flower?"
Still felt like rock.
"A bud now, but then it was a glowing blue flower. After bringing you to the tribe, it ripened into this."
"Flower... turned to rock?"
"No, it was always rock. A glowing blue flower-shaped rock."
Couldn't parse it. Flower or rock?
"Wanted to bloom it again for you, but couldn't figure how. Nearly got tossed by Rippling Earth, but I saved it to give back."
I recalled the Deer Elder forcing him to ditch his rock collection before departure. He'd snuck this one.
"Ursa."
"What."
"...It's special. Likely one of the plains' mysteries. The qi from that flower-rock was extraordinary."
If true, a blooming rock. Hard to buy from hype-prone Bear Elder, but a plains mystery? Valuable gift.
But.
"Isn't this... originally mine?"
"What."
If his story held, it was by unconscious me. Probably my possession, knocked off by lightning.
He panicked, realizing it himself. Might pull out a real gift now, so I relented.
"Kidding. Thanks, Bear Elder. I'll make it bloom for sure."
Flower bud rock—call it Stonebud for short. Clutching it, I thanked him. His flustered demeanor normalized.
"It's late. Shall we head back?"
No moon, but past ten p.m. Earth me pulled all-nighters, but this kid body drowsed at night. I felt hazy now.
Following him to camp, I examined Stonebud. Felt the bud shape, but dark hid color and details. Held it to starlight—various stars, brightest Polaris. Still too dim.
No good. Check in daylight tomorrow.
Looked ahead.
And—nothing.
"...Huh?"
No Bear Elder, no camp, nothing. Endless plains and stars. Spinning around—same. Everyone gone, just me dumped on the plains.
Something was terribly wrong. Cold sweat trickled; blood drained from my body.
"Bear Elder! Deer Elder! Frost Fang! Where is everyone!"
No sight, no reply. Shouting into empty plains got no echo.
"What... the hell is this..."
Terrifying. Worse than goblins. Solitude. Utterly alone in the world—horrific.
Vision blurred. Wiping my eyes—tears.
"Don't cry, dear."
A clear woman's voice right behind. Unfamiliar.
I jumped, spun.
A woman sat on a suddenly risen rock. Dark, yet she was vivid: long green hair, flawless face, clear blue eyes. And, even now, captivatingly ample chest.
Our eyes met.
"Who... are you?"
Awe made me polite—first time since arriving.
She smiled gently.
"Hello, my daughter. We've finally met."