Della Keeps the Lantern — Beside the cold river bend, Della set herself a challenge: keep the little lantern glowing until the smiling moon climbed over the black pines. Read the full story →
Beside the cold river bend, Della set herself a challenge: keep the little lantern glowing until the smiling moon climbed over the black pines. She tucked her paws on the pebbles and listened to the tent ropes hum, zzz-zz, in the mountain wind. The flame smelled faintly of warm oil and metal. Every few minutes, she checked the canvas flap, where tiny stitched shapes—one moon, five stars—waited like a secret code.
A silver moth fluttered from the lantern handle and tapped each stitch with dusty wings. Tap, tap, tap. The stars answered with soft pinpricks of light. “Not yet,” whispered the moth. So Della waited, though the river muttered and the pine shadows stretched long as ladders. At last the real moon rose, round-edged and grinning, and its pale beam touched the tent.
The stitched moon brightened first. Then the stars blinked awake, marking the tent for any sleepy hiker wandering down from the dark ridge. Ever since Della kept watch by that cold river bend, camping tents have carried moons and stars, so patient lights know where to land. Next time you spot those marks, see if you can find the lantern that waited with her.
