Piper and the Missing Star

Piper counted the stars in her constellation once, twice, and then once more. One twinkle was missing.

“Oh, crumbs,” she said. “Our picture has a gap!”

The constellation called the Lantern Fox rested in a star meadow between its nightly appearances. The meadow had silver grass, round puddles of moonlight, and little hills where star shapes could stretch their points. When the time came, the Lantern Fox would rise into the sky: a bright fox with a lantern swinging from its tail.

Piper was one of the fox’s smallest stars, but she had a very important spot. She made the tip of the lantern handle. Without her, the lantern looked like a lopsided cookie.

“Where is Wally?” asked Piper. Wally was a star from the fox’s back, and he always stood beside the lantern’s flame. “He was right here when we came to rest.”

The other stars looked around. They found a tiny silver button, three blades of grass, and a cloud-shaped pebble. They did not find Wally.

Lights dotted the meadow from one end to the other. Some belonged to other constellations. Some were fireflies who had wandered up from the fields below. And some were dew drops, holding bits of starlight like little bowls.

“I’ll look for him,” Piper said. “We need our whole picture before we go up tonight.”

“Stay where we can see you,” called Brindle, the old star at the fox’s nose.

“I will!” Piper called back.

She hopped from the meadow path to a low hill. From there she could see lights near the Moon-Mill, lights beside the reeds, and lights peeking out from behind a cloud that was floating close to the ground.

“Wally?” she called.

A firefly blinked once. A dew drop flashed as Piper passed. Farther away, two little lights glimmered together—but then a pair of stars from the Rabbit constellation called to each other, and the lights vanished among the meadow’s many signals.

Piper paused. Every direction held a light. Which one belonged to Wally?

She looked toward the cloud, where its round top resembled a whale and its trailing edge looked like a curly tail. Perhaps Wally had seen it too. Piper lifted her points and called again, but the meadow answered with a jumble of scattered blinks.

The Lantern Fox waited on the hill, still missing its lantern handle. Piper needed a better idea.

Piper stood very still and watched the meadow. A firefly blinked once. The Rabbit stars sent three slow flashes. Dew drops caught the moonlight whenever the grass moved.

“I can’t guess my way to Wally,” she murmured. “I need to remember something only he would know.”

She pictured Wally beside the Lantern Fox’s flame. When he wanted Piper’s attention, he never called her name. He gave two quick twinkles: blink-blink. Piper always answered with one long twinkle.

“Then I know what to do,” she said. “Wally and I have a signal of our own.”

Piper pointed toward the Moon-Mill and sent two quick twinkles. Blink-blink.

Nothing answered.

She turned toward the reeds. Blink-blink.

A frog gave a plip from a puddle, but no star replied.

Piper felt a little wobbly. The Lantern Fox was waiting, and the meadow was so wide. Still, she remembered how Wally had taught her the signal. “If you can’t see me, I’ll answer with one long twinkle,” he had said. “Just give me two quick twinkles.”

Piper climbed the little hill and tried once more. Blink-blink.

The cloud slid across the meadow, slowly as a boat on a quiet pond. It covered the hill’s far side. Piper was just about to call again when a single, long twinkle shone from behind the cloud.

“Wally!” Piper called.

She answered with one long twinkle, then hurried around the hill. She moved carefully enough to keep the cloud’s edge in sight. Following it step by step, she reached a hollow in the grass.

There sat Wally, gazing up at the cloud. Its round top now looked like a sleeping bear, and one little puff made a perfect ear.

“I was only going to look for a moment,” he said. “Then the bear grew a second ear.”

Piper laughed. “I understand. But our Lantern Fox is missing its lantern handle.”

Wally glanced toward the hill. “Oh! I’m sorry. I’ll come right back.”

Together they returned to the constellation. The other stars made room, and Wally slid into his familiar place beside the flame. Piper moved to the tip of the handle and lined up her points.

“Does the lantern look straight?” she asked.

“Straighter than a ruler,” said Wally.

The Lantern Fox’s picture was whole again, ready for the night.

The Lantern Fox gathered on the hill while the meadow grew quiet. One by one, its stars found their places. Brindle set the fox’s nose toward the open sky. Wally stood beside the lantern flame. Piper held the very end of the handle, just where she belonged.

“Everyone ready?” Brindle asked.

The stars answered with a low chorus of “Ready.”

Then the Lantern Fox rose from the meadow. It lifted gently past the drifting cloud and took its place among the other constellations. From the sky, the cloud’s bear shape had stretched into a long, sleepy boat sailing beneath the stars.

Piper could see the meadow far below. The Moon-Mill had stopped turning. The Rabbit constellation had settled into its own picture, ears pointing toward a quiet corner of the sky. Down on Earth, the last fireflies tucked themselves among the grasses.

Wally leaned close to Piper. “I’m glad you remembered our signal.”

“I’m glad you answered,” she said. “I was beginning to think every light in the meadow was trying to confuse me.”

“Some of them probably were,” Wally said. “That dew drop has a very mischievous look.”

Piper looked down at the meadow. The dew drop flashed once, as if it had heard. She giggled, and the little sound seemed to fit right into the hush of the night.

The Lantern Fox traveled across the sky, its lantern shining steadily. With her place secure and Wally beside her, Piper could drift along at an easy pace. Below them, the cloud sailed past the moon, carrying its bear shape and its boat shape wherever the night led.

After a while, Brindle’s bright nose tipped toward the far hills. The constellation began its slow journey back toward the star meadow, where it would rest until another night. Piper kept her place in the lantern handle, watching the familiar pattern hold together all around her.

When the whole Lantern Fox was settled once more, Wally gave Piper two soft twinkles. Blink-blink. Piper answered at once with one long twinkle, and the meadow grew still beneath them.