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Euthymia wandered her routine path, the grass soft beneath the pads of her paws. The world around her was quiet, but not quite silent. Her swiveling ears picked up the sounds of rustling in the brush as small, nocturnal mammals went about their business. The soft hoooo of an owl echoed off the trees as it called to another of its kind. The skittering of bird feet on branches reminded her that some smaller canopy-dwelling creatures were out and about, as well.

Her steps led her slowly toward her destination, though she deeply enjoyed the calm of the evening and savored it for as long as felt practical. After all, she did have a destination, and a person who waited for her there. The flat boulder lay ahead, and even from here, Euthymia could see the glow of his white mane and tail tips in the darkness. His other markings were less distinctive in the dark until one grew closer to him, but they reflected the night sky, filled with starry luster. She smiled a soft smile at the sight of him.

Approaching the rock, Euthymia glanced at the blankets he had brought, thankful for his thoughtfulness. Though she was quite resilient, sitting on cold rock did get chilly even to her, despite her volume of hair. "Antares," she said, voice almost a purr. "What awaits us in the sky tonight?"

WC: 231

Euthymia looked up at the sky, her pale eyes catching on a round constellation with a not-quite-oblong shape extending from one side of it. "Don't you mean the story of how the first rain came?" Euthymia said, one eyebrow lifting in mock-challenge. "The Armadillo was quite a troublemaker, after all, but without it, we might not have the green and the pools we so enjoy in this world." Euthymia settled on a blanket and curled her mass of tail around her side, insulating herself. Pulling another blanket over to her side with her mouth, she inclined her head in a gesture of invitation to Antares. She enjoyed his company, and on nights like these, she also enjoyed his warmth. The area surrounding them was quiet and hushed now, finally gone mostly to sleep; she liked it when they whispered their tales to each other in the night, bonding over stories and the comfort of each other's company.

WC: 157

Euthymia smirked as Antares took the well-intentioned bait. It was almost a little intoxicating when he got hooked into a story; his expression went dreamy, but his voice held authority as he told the tale. As he settled himself, his tail briefly brushed her side. Its soft touch put a little flush of warmth through her.

Looking up at the constellation with its twinkling stars in the deep night, Euthymia half-closed her eyes, as well, imagining Armadillo's rising pile of dirt, solid and damp, as it had been freshly pulled from the crust of the earth. "Before too long, Armadillo had raised a hill high enough that it touched the clouds beneath where his constellation now rests in the sky," Euthymia said, continuing Antares's story. "The peak was narrow enough at the summit to pierce the clouds, and from them poured the first rain, a downpour so great that thunder rattled as the clouds split and the earth shook. Armadillo, quite surprised by this turn of events, was even more surprised when a sudden rush of water poured down the mountain like a ramp, directly into the hole he had dug."

WC: 191

Euthymia blinked as Antares's piece of the tale came to an abrupt end, then turned her face to hide a little scowl. She wasn't ready for the story to be over! She had been having too much fun with the telling of it, and enjoying his company, to boot. At Antares's mention of the sun, she looked toward the horizon - a low purple glow had bloomed in the dark sky at the edge of the world, signaling that it would soon be time for them to say goodbye. She thought that perhaps someday she might adapt to his schedule, but really she kept one of her own. She enjoyed waking in the hours before dawn, to listen to the sounds of the animals scurrying in the dark and the night birds cooing softly. She listened to the nocturnal animals settle for their bedtime, and then she listened to those who rose with the morning sing their dawn chorus. Before the late morning got too warm, she usually found herself a nice, shady spot to sleep, and then would awake again in the late evening and experience dusk. She believed the term for her habits was crepuscular; her siblings compared her to a fox, with its odd sleep routine.

Unwilling to let the ends of the tale be tied up so incredibly neatly - something always came after the end - Euthymia chased it just a bit more, intent on using every bit of time they had. "But now that Armadillo was Beaverillo, you left out the best parts!" she exclaimed, mouth twisting up in a grin that was meant to poke at him just a little. "Because of Beaverillo, we have rain, rivers, mountains... almost anything one can dream up." Euthymia tilted her head toward the night sky, imagining what a beaverillo migt look like. But, as she watched, the purple at the horizon line began to lift into the rest of the sky, and Euthymia realized they had less time than she had imagined.

With a sigh, Euthymia got to her feet, slinging a blanket over her shoulder with her teeth. "I did enjoy the tale, but I believe you are correct about the sun; twilight rises from below the horizon." Euthymia led the way to the mouth of Antares's cave, hoping that the blanket over her shoulder would make her look helpful, at the very least. "Come," she said. "I can tuck you in if you would like."

WC: 408

Smiling gently as Antares stepped into the cave, Euthymia helped him get settled, carefully arranging his blankets. Just before she left, she softly touched her muzzle to his forehead and wished him a peaceful sleep.

Outside the cave, standing on the same outcropping where they had just spent a while talking about the stars, Euthymia watched the sun come up.