How the Stars Came to Be

Gather, children, gather, and I will tell you the story of the stars.

When the world was young, my children - when chickens had teeth and coyotes shared the language of our people - the night was as dark as obsidian arrows, as thick and black as the hair in your braids. Only the moon shone in the darkness, laboring alone to keep the night-creatures at bay.

It is said, little ones, that the loneliness of the moon is what weakened it, so that one night the moon closed his eyes, and did not awaken.

It was a night like this, a night when the moon slumbered, that our story begins.

The cold was deep as the dark; it was a winter of hunger - even the clever coyotes showed their ribs through their yellow fur and the birds could not fly without their wings freezing in the snow.

It was in this deathly cold that a woman stumbled, alone as the moon. Her name has been lost to us, but her memory remains. She was strong and kind, she loved her family and respected the world living and breathing around her. Her soul was as warm as the sun, and her smile was like the sunrise.

Most of all, dear ones, she loved the moon. When she was born, the first thing her eyes beheld was him, glowing orange with the promise of a bountiful harvest. She would stay up all night to watch him wander the sky, and it troubled her heart when he did not wake.

It had been an autumn and winter since the moon had fallen asleep. An autumn and winter of hunger and fear, fear without their shining guardian to protect them from the bellies of the dark monsters.

It had been an autumn and a winter since the woman with the sun for a soul had seen her beloved moon. She missed his guidance and protection and soft, kind glow. She could not bear to be without him. So, children, she kissed her family and set off to wake the moon.

She travelled to the mountains, yes, the very mountains there over my shoulder, and climbed to the highest point of the highest peak.

There, she found the moon, cold and weak, asleep in the snow and the darkness.

The the sun-soul woman reached out to touch him, tears freezing on her cheeks. Why did she cry, little one? She cried for the darkness and the hungry bellies of her nieces and nephews. She cried for her tired feet and numb-blue fingers. And she cried for the aching loneliness she felt in the moon's ice-cold heart.

Those tears turned to snow and crept across her face. Where her fingers brushed the moon's skin, frost formed and raced up her arms. The moon and the mountain were too cold for her earthly form and soul-of-the-sun. The woman bowed her head, broken-hearted, and crumbled into snow and frost.

Do not weep, children, my story is not yet complete.

The wind, dear ones, the wind heard the woman's cries, and carried them to the spirits. The spirits were moved by her love for the moon, love from a soul like the sun, love that could bring light to the dark.

The spirits went up, up, up the mountain, to the highest point of the highest peak, and saw the moon and the frost covering him like a blanket. They gathered it up and flung it into the sky. The snow stuck to the darkness, glittering like the sun on water.

The moon stirred. The touch of the sun-soul woman warmed him, and his heart no longer felt alone. He opened his shining eyes, and ah, my children! He saw the stars.

The stars shone hot, hot as the sun, for the woman's soul could not be kept frozen forever. They warmed the moon, filling his eyes with beauty and his heart with strength. He leapt into the sky, no longer alone with the stars to join him in the night. The world rejoiced to once again have their shining guardian.

The moon grew back to his full strength, but, listen, dear ones, it was not meant to be. With his light, the moon outshone the stars. The stars-like-the-sun could not be seen when he shone too brightly.

The moon could not bear to be without the stars, and he was still tired. For though the world was young, the moon had spent too long as the only protector of the night. He faded, and rested again, unafraid now that the stars were there with him. The stars-like-the-sun watched over the night as he rested, and kept the dark monsters at bay. When he was ready, the moon rose again to guard the darkness.

That is why, children, we do not see the moon tonight. He is resting, safe in the love of the stars, and as the nights pass, you will see him grow back to his full strength. Do not fear, young ones, he has been returning for ages - the valley we call home was but a trickling stream when the sun-soul woman woke him.

Time for bed, children, sleep now. Dream of the moon and the stars. Dream of talking coyotes and chicken with teeth, these are our stories, and we will remember them.