___A long time ago, within the endless flora of this bountiful forest, a strange child was one day left within it. This child, though seemingly just another to have lived, was oddly obscure and shined of moonlight. It had fur the brightest of bright, eyes that danced in a silver metallic glow, and antlers which spindled into branches of gorgeous geometry. Pale like the snow but at the same time glowing like the sun, he was at first, quiet. Thoughts of another life plagued him, thoughts of another mother haunted him. An entity, worshiped in some cultures, was his ultimate nemesis. For...he was the son of the moon; a child born as white as the back of an ermine, and with eyes silver instead of green. His name was Wudiin, the hijo de la luna.
___He sought perfection. Personal, inner sanctity in reaching the expectations of this maternal entity...but it was never enough. He soon began to break from the strings that held him, reaching out into the forest. Slowly, silver eyes reflected blue eyes. Fair faces met midnight embraces, and before long the hijo de la luna fell in love with the stars, a constellation called Poltergeist. And the moon was furious.
___His heart could not stop erupting into panicked bouts of rapid drumming, nor begin again properly when it all but stopped. Convinced to think nothing of it, the moon's child fought against an imaginary enemy, refusing to give into the cradle his mother offered him. The child cried, the moon waned, but the cradle remained untouched. And this angered the heartbroken mother. She would not give up her lunar child into the arms of a starry lit sky. She refused to accept that her son would someday grow and leave her cradle. She was his mother! She would cradle him in her arms. No other soul was to touch this precious child. Lunar lullabies were soon becoming long forgotten lore, and she would quickly remind him of the matronly moon's melody.
___The silver eyed hart began to decline. The further he fell into the darkly lit sky, the further the lunar mother endured to try and pull him from it. But he would not allow it. Bonds had been made. Friendships sealed. His strings had been tied down to this land, forming tightly knit knots of unimaginable strength. Stardust of shining green emeralds had been woven delicately around others necks. He would not willingly give into her. He was no longer a man of the moon, but a man of his word. He fought harder than she.
___But the mother fought even harder against him. Each day suddenly became moonlit, each moment becoming more painful to endure. Constant aches and jarring pains clutched his heart, his lungs, and his mind. And without warning, the murder of a young soul shocked the once peaceful forest. With the sight of such wretched reds, so too did the hart become shocked and weak.
___The mother ceased this moment of weakness. In her grasp, she clutched her son in her unyielding embrace, pulling him into the tides with her. The silver began to dim, and the forest was shrouded in an endless night.



___Over time, stars began to emerge again, though not as bright and brilliant as they were before. Time passed, the moon content with the return of her precious son. But the child wept. Wept for the loss of his beautiful night sky, wept for the lives he had lost, wept for the friendships that had been torn from him. The moon's child could not glow without constellations to surround him. In this hour of darkness, he turned to his mother in the pits of his mourning. The stars had begun to plead, desperately, with the lunar entity. The child had heard it. He made a deal with her, for certainly she would not object to having more children in the likeness of her son. But the mother would not give without gaining something in return for her endeavors. So in her quest to gain, she stole a single voice from one of the children, so she would never be left in ethereal silence again. He then traded his soul for the stars, and when her back was turned, new constellations were born.
___The gain of these bright new stars resulted in the loss of another for the sky of the forest below. But the endless night had reunited with the moon, and they both danced in a lunar lullaby of their own design.
___Soon the moon's son, and the sky's nebular masterpiece, formed a beautiful night sky for their children continue to live on beneath. They were named Sterre and Otis, born of the moon and sky's final melody. One, without a voice, and another with enough words to make up for it. And through these celestial offspring, the two opposites live on once more.