Junie Builds the Skybridge — Every evening, Junie tucked silver star-pins into her mane and measured the windy gap between Puff Nine and the Moonbell clouds. Read the full story →
Every evening, Junie tucked silver star-pins into her mane and measured the windy gap between Puff Nine and the Moonbell clouds. She wanted to build a rainbow bridge with her own hooves before the comet parade rattled past. Until one evening, a whoosh of peppermint-cold air scattered her star-pins, and her half-made rainbow sagged like wet ribbon.
Because of that, Junie chased the pins across the cloudway, clink-clink-clink, gathering them with her tail while sparks tickled her nose. Because of THAT, the loose rainbow bands began curling around her horn instead of the clouds. “Hold still, sky!” she laughed, stomping each color into place with bright, brave thumps.
At last, Junie pressed the final star-pin into the highest stripe. The bridge hummed beneath her, sturdy and shining, and the comet parade zoomed over it in a trail of cinnamon light. Junie stood on her puff of cloud, chest warm as sunrise, because every stripe had her hoofmark in it. Next time you spot the star tucked by her horn, remember the windy gap she measured every evening.
