Burning bright

I am alone in the dark. Almost alone. The moon smiles at me; we are friends, the moon and I. She watches me as I sway in and out of the foliage, my ribcage swinging slowly left to right to left as I pad along, and my way is lit by the tears of happiness she weeps at the sight of me. Some fall on my hide and my tail, and when they do my golden stripes dazzle the timorous nocturnal animals who cower from me as I pass. I am their king, they are my subjects. I never travel during the day; my fur shines brighter than the sun, and, jealous, he tries to burn me, so I take sanctuary in the protection of the trees and escape him in sleep. Only the moon understands my needs, my desires for solitude and autonomy. Every night I choose a different path for her. Tonight I walk by the stream. I pause to dip my whiskers into it and lap at the cool waters, and she splinters into a thousand shifting pieces before my eyes. I wait for her to regain her shape and then I move on, walking past a sign, written by humans, that says “Keep Out”, and I realise that I can’t remember the last time I saw my mother or my sister. At the same time I realise that I don’t miss them at all. I ignore the sign; it has been a long time since I obeyed anyone. I walk on, into the ruins of an ancient tower. I have been here before.