Quillan Counts the Moonlight — Under the hush of Owlroot Cemetery, Quillan tucked his wings close and set himself a little challenge: count five moonbeams without asking the moon to come lower. Read the full story →
Under the hush of Owlroot Cemetery, Quillan tucked his wings close and set himself a little challenge: count five moonbeams without asking the moon to come lower. The grass smelled of cold mint and pumpkin leaves. One beam slid over a stone, one silvered a vine, and one landed right inside a carved pumpkin’s grin. Quillan swallowed. “Just five,” he whispered.
When the fourth moonbeam touched his nose, the wind gave a soft whooo through the pumpkin mouths. Their hollow bellies were dark, waiting. Quillan had never breathed fire where shadows gathered, not even a spark, but he cupped his claws and puffed the smallest flame he could make. It floated into the nearest pumpkin, golden and gentle, then hopped vine to vine as if it knew the way.
The moon smiled so wide that the fifth beam fell straight into Quillan’s counting claw. Ever since that night, jack-o’-lanterns keep little dragon sparks in their bellies to make October shadows feel less alone. If you spot the brightest pumpkin, maybe it is still guarding Quillan’s fifth moonbeam.
