Willa’s Pretend Moon

Willa’s smooth little rock rolled past her toes and down the hill.

“Wait!” she called, flapping her small wings as she hurried after it. The rock bumped over a root, skipped past a fern, and came to rest against a clump of low grass. Willa reached it just as it began to roll again.

At the top of the prehistoric hillside, a flat patch of ground made a perfect story circle. Willa’s friends were gathering there: Kai, with a leaf tucked behind one ear; Brindle, who liked silly stories; and Miri, who could make a sound like a sleepy frog.

“Bring something special,” Kai had said. “We’ll use it in our story tonight.”

Willa had found the rock near the fern meadow. It was round and smooth, just the right size to be a pretend moon. She wanted to set it in the middle of the circle while everyone told a tale about the night sky.

But the hillside sloped between the meadow and the gathering place. Every time Willa put the rock down, it rolled away from her.

She tried carrying it in her beak. That made her jaw ache, so she set it down. Roll, bump, bump—it went again.

She tried nudging it with one wing. It spun around and headed downhill faster.

“Maybe it wants to visit the meadow,” Brindle called from above.

“I think it has visited enough,” Willa replied, trotting after it.

The rock stopped among several blades of grass. Willa sat down, a little dusty from the chase. The blades curved around the rock’s sides, holding it still.

Willa gave it a careful nudge. The rock rolled off the grass and down a short strip of bare earth. She hurried beside it and caught up before it reached the ferns.

Then she looked back at the grassy spot. The rock had stopped there before. Willa studied the slope, the places where grass grew, and the flat ground at the top.

“Wait,” she said. “I think I know how to bring you home.”

Above her, the friends leaned over the hill to watch.

Willa pushed the rock onto the grassy spot. It settled between the blades and stopped.

“Grass can help keep the rock from rolling back down,” she said. “I can move it uphill in short pushes, stopping to let it rest in the grass.”

Kai spread his wings. “We’ll watch from the circle. You can do it!”

Willa chose a grassy spot a little way uphill. She stood behind the rock, leaned her shoulder against it, and pushed steadily. Her feet pressed into the slope as she walked it uphill, step by step. The rock bumped over the bare earth while Willa kept pushing. At last, it reached the grass and settled there.

“Stopped!” called Miri.

Willa grinned. She had not needed to chase it all the way down the hill. She could move it uphill in short pushes, letting the grass hold it while she rested.

The next grassy spot was farther uphill. Willa pressed her shoulder to the rock again and pushed, walking behind it as it rolled. It bumped over a tiny pebble and wobbled toward the edge of the grass.

“Easy,” Willa whispered, keeping her shoulder against the rock. She guided it away from a bare rut and continued to push until it reached the grass and came to rest.

Brindle called, “The moon is making a grand journey!”

“It’s a very round journey,” Willa called back.

At the last stretch, the ground rose toward the flat gathering place. Willa paused to choose her path. One grassy spot lay just below the circle. She lined the rock up carefully, then leaned into it and pushed all the way uphill. The rock rolled ahead only as Willa kept it moving, until it reached the grass and stopped at the edge of the flat ground.

Willa took a breath, then gave it one final, steady push. She walked right behind it as it rolled onto the gathering place and stayed there.

Her friends cheered. Kai made room in the middle of the circle. “Welcome, pretend moon!” he said.

Willa settled the rock in its place. Together, the pterodactyls folded their wings around the circle, ready to make up a tale beneath the evening sky.

“Once, above a meadow full of ferns,” Kai began, “there was a little moon who wanted to hear what the stars were saying.”

Willa looked at the round rock in the center. “The moon was shy,” she added. “It had never listened closely before.”

Miri made a tiny, rumbling frog sound. “The stars whispered, ‘Hello, moon.’”

Brindle tilted his head toward the sky. “But the moon didn’t know which star had spoken.”

“Then a small star said, ‘You don’t have to know,’” Willa told them. “‘You can just enjoy the quiet.’”

Everyone listened for a moment. The fern meadow below rustled as the night breeze moved through it. Far off, a night bird gave one sleepy call.

“What happened next?” asked Miri, speaking softly now.

“The moon found a place in the sky where it could watch over the meadow,” said Kai. “The stars took turns telling it little stories.”

“One story was about a beetle who carried a crumb home,” Willa said. “Another was about a fern that liked the rain.”

“And one,” Brindle added, “was about a pterodactyl who brought a moon to her friends without letting it roll away.”

Willa chuckled. “That one sounds familiar.”

The friends stayed in their circle, making the tale quieter and quieter. They imagined the little moon resting above the fern meadow while the stars kept watch. They pictured the beetle curled in its leafy bed and the fern folded up for the night.

Kai yawned, and Miri tucked her snout beneath one wing. Brindle’s eyes grew heavy as he listened to the last few words of the story.

Willa gave the rock one gentle pat. It rested in the middle of the circle, just where she had hoped it would be. Around it, her friends settled close, their wings warm against their sides.

Above the hillside, the real stars held their places in the quiet sky. The pterodactyls watched for a little while, then rested their heads beneath their wings, while Willa’s pretend moon kept the story company until morning.