Juno and the Silver Flag

Juno tucked the moon-moss parcel beneath her glow and set off for Pipkin’s tiny moon. The bundle was tied with a blue thread, and it smelled like rain on warm stones.

“Keep snug, little moss,” she said. “Pipkin has been waiting for you.”

Juno was a young comet, small enough to loop around a sleepy planet, but long enough to leave a bright trail behind her. She zipped through a quiet corner of a make-believe solar system, past three round planets and a ring of icy pebbles that clicked together like tiny bells.

Ahead lay a cloud of floating stardust. Beyond it sat Pipkin’s moon, a little gray world with one round hill and a shallow hollow for a home. Juno could just make out Pipkin at the edge of the hollow, waving a little silver flag.

“There you are!” Pipkin called. “I’ve been watching for you.”

“And I’ve brought your moon-moss,” Juno called back. “It should make a fine nest.”

Pipkin’s flag dipped and lifted. Its silver cloth caught the light from a faraway star. Juno loved that flag. It was easy to spot, even from a long way off.

Between Juno and the moon, the stardust cloud spread wide as a meadow. Each speck carried a little light of its own, and the whole cloud shifted in slow, curling waves.

Juno glanced at the parcel. Then she looked at the moon. The straight path through the cloud seemed shortest.

“I’ll be there in a blink,” she called.

Pipkin held the flag high. “I’ll guide you in!”

Juno tucked her tail close and aimed for the middle of the cloud. She wanted to reach Pipkin quickly, before the moon-moss got jostled loose. The stardust welcomed her with a whispery rustle, and Juno sailed onward, carrying the parcel beneath her glow.

Behind her, the silver flag waved once, then disappeared from view as the cloud folded around her.

At first, Juno could still see the moon. Then the stardust curled across her path. It swirled above her, around her tail, and in front of her nose.

“Pipkin?” she called.

A little silver flicker appeared, vanished, then appeared somewhere else. The cloud had turned the flag’s reflection into a dozen false signals.

Juno slowed. She tried to follow the brightest glimmer, but it slipped away. She turned left, and the stardust spun with her. She turned right, and the parcel bumped against her side.

“Easy, little bundle,” she murmured. “I’m trying.”

The moon-moss stayed tied, but Juno could no longer tell where the landing hollow was. She hovered in place, careful not to rush farther into the swirling dust.

Then she noticed something. Along the cloud’s outer edge, the stardust moved in long, quiet curls. It did not twist and tumble there. A narrow passage curved around the cloud, like a path around a pond.

Juno looked from that passage to the cloudy middle. The curved way was longer, but it was clear. She didn’t have to take the shortest route.

“Pipkin!” she called. “Can you raise your flag where I can see it?”

For a moment, there was only the hush of the cloud. Then a silver point lifted beyond its edge. Pipkin was holding the little flag high, and keeping it still.

“I see you!” Juno called.

She turned toward the calmer passage. The stardust brushed her tail, but it no longer whirled around her. Juno followed the curve, checking the silver flag whenever the path bent.

At the far end, Pipkin’s moon came into view. The landing hollow was just below the flag. Juno eased forward, keeping the parcel tucked close.

“Almost here,” Pipkin said.

Juno glided down. Her tail swept above the ground, and the parcel settled gently into Pipkin’s waiting hands.

“You found the way,” Pipkin said.

“We found it,” Juno replied, as the silver flag gave a small, happy wave.

Pipkin carried the moon-moss into the hollow, and Juno followed at a slower pace. The little moon had a smooth floor and a low stone ledge where Pipkin kept a cup, a round pebble, and a neatly folded map of nearby stars.

“Here’s the best spot,” Pipkin said. “Right in the middle, where I can curl up and see the sky.”

Together, they untied the blue thread. The moon-moss sprang open in soft green curls. Pipkin fluffed it with both hands, spreading it into a nest as wide as a soup bowl.

Juno watched the nest take shape. A few strands stuck to Pipkin’s sleeve.

“Now you have a moss cuff,” Juno said.

Pipkin looked at the green fluff around one wrist. “A very fine one.”

They laughed quietly, so the sound wouldn’t travel far across the little moon.

Pipkin placed the silver flag beside the hollow, where its pole leaned against the stone ledge. The cloth rested still. Juno settled nearby, her tail curled along the ground like a bright ribbon.

From there, they could see the stardust cloud passing in the distance. It rolled along without hurrying, and the curved passage remained open around its edge. Juno thought about how she had tried to rush straight through. Then she looked at Pipkin’s flag, resting where she could see it.

“Thank you for waiting,” Juno said.

“Thank you for bringing the moss,” Pipkin replied. “And for finding a better way.”

Pipkin tested the nest with a small hop. It held its shape. Then Pipkin sat down in the middle, tucked both feet beneath the moss, and gave a pleased little nod.

Juno watched the stars blink slowly overhead. One, then another, then a third, with plenty of quiet between each one. Pipkin’s silver flag rested beside the nest, and the blue thread lay in a tidy loop on the stone.

The little moon grew still. Juno stayed beside her friend, keeping watch over the cozy hollow as the stars blinked on above them.