...and you pulled away.

And so, having stolen the first star out of the sky, the Beast considered the work he’d had to do. So much work, even for such a great prize. Surely there was a way to simplify this process.

So the Beast sat and stewed, rested and mused, and thought about the ways in which one might reach the Heavens, with all of it’s bright, flickering lights. An epiphany struck him, lightening bolt bright.

“If but mine horns could scrape at the underbelly of the sky,” the Beast surmised, “then I could take all the stars I might want.”

But…how to make one’s self bigger? Another puzzle, another conundrum.

Beside the Beast, his ever persistent Shadow stirred and slithered, rippled and ran along the great Beast’s back, to pour his tongues into a tattered ear.

“I will help you,” the Shadow slurred, tongues twining in his mouth, behind the brilliant bright of his bear trap mouth. “I will pull one way and you can pull another, and you will stretch yourself so tall!”

The Beast looked thoughtful: it was not the worst idea to have.

“Alright,” he agreed, “but you must be careful with mine horns - they are terribly sharp, and it would not be hard to hurt yourself.”

“I promise to be careful,” the Shadow sang, and soon, the Beast bent and pitched forward to stand. His Shadow rose as well, making himself hands were none had been and when the Beast bowed his head, his Shadow reached out to grab at the endless sprawl of tines that served as the Beast’s horns.

The Beast started to back up and the Shadow started to tug and soon, the Beast started to lengthen. He grew and grew, the length of his body turning terribly long. Before the sun was set, he was so tall that his tines touched the sky with no problem.

When the Beast looked about, he was both pleased and puzzled. He was so terribly tall now, but something seemed to be amiss.

“Mine Shadow,” the Beast slurred, “where have you gone?“

“Down here.” And lo, there was his shadow, stuff to the forest floor.

“I leaned and pulled so hard, that I seem to be stuck.”

And now, for his hands were so huge, his claws so sharp, the Beast was no longer capable of being delicate. He could not pick his Shadow up.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot pick you up,” the Beast told him, sounding sad indeed.

“Are you just going to abandon me?” his Shadow spat, scowling. “You’re just going to leave me here?”

“Oh no. You can follow me all you like. You might even, were you to wish it, to run in front of me, to see the way. But you’ll have to do it from down there.”

“Fine,” the Shadow said, sulking and seething, “but the first chance I get, I’m going to get free. Just you watch me.”

Slowly, the Beast started to smile. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

With that, the Beast started to wander away, to find more stars to catch.

And his Shadow could do nothing but follow.