You do not know why the human has not yet started to lead you to the Star Menders. You sit in front of the cave, waiting for him to catch on the hint, but the only thing he does is to gather some new branches and rocks.

His body is illuminated by the lights of the day that continues on its way, while his hair becomes much more golden than it was during the morning, and he smiles at you, muttering words you cannot understand, but filled with concern for you.

Concern for what?

He plays with the branches a little and creates a small wooden canopy encircled by rocks, and then he tucks his hand in a hole in his clothes. The hand doesn't come out from the other side of the hole. You look at it, curious, and he laughs a little. You feel offended.

He shows you the hole: it looks like something that can contain things inside of it. He picks out a box from it and fishes a little wooden stick with a red tip.

They look familiar. Many humans handle similar items, in the darkness of the night.

The kid moves the stick to the side of the box and, in one swift motion, creates fire. Your eyes widen, surprised. You are not oblivious to the efforts of men on creating fire, but it is the first time you see one of these fire sticks in motion so closely.

The kid notices your curiosity and chuckles. You feel offended. Again.

He throws the fire stick into the branches in front of him. The wood crackles as a small glint takes birth in the middle of the canopy. The kid kneels in front of it and starts blowing on it, before stopping and squinting his eyes to check on his progress. You follow him closely, squinting your eyes too: stars are good at spotting things. The kid does not laugh at you, nor does he seem to pay attention to you, for he keeps blowing on the small fire cradle. It takes some time, but finally the flame flickers to life, as a sense of warmth caresses your feathers.

It is an unknown feeling, to you. You had received glimpses of it in the men’s prayers, so full of emotions and feelings that the sounds they uttered couldn’t express, but this is the first time you feel it on your body.

It feels like the morning sun that shone upon you after your fight with the bear. The sense of rebirth. Of hope. And, for a moment, you think that everything is going to be fine. Even the pain of your wing is dulled and out of your mind.

You must have been staring at the fire for quite a long time, for the boy is looking at you. But he is not making fun of you. A small smile adorns his lips, the same expression you have seen on humans when they are looking at somebody they care about. Like mothers looking at their child when they take their first steps. The boy, for some reason that eludes you, seems to be happy for you.

He rummages in the hole-with-an-end of his clothes and hands you the box of fire sticks.

Has he noticed your curiosity? You grab the small box and then he mutters a few words.

You are curious about the fire sticks. You take one out and sniff it. You wince. It smells of war. You do not like it. You examine the box and pass your claw over the rough side. The claw flashes.

You hiss at your own limb, while the human child laughs. You, once again, feel offended.

You look at the kid with the corner of your eye as he fumbles with a brown, round piece of clothing at his side. It takes you a moment, but you remember humans calling it a “bag”. He takes a giant, rolled leaf out of it and opens it, revealing a slab of meat.

It smells good. The scent is that of a certain beast you cannot discern, but the lingering feelings of the forests are still strong.

You had never thought of him to be a hunter. The different things on his body are such an array of colors and shapes and fabrics that confuse your sight, but you are fairly sure you see no weapons on him.

You tilt your head in confusion, but the kid looks down at the food in his hands and shakes his head. He then raises his hand and shows his palm to you, like when he did the first time you met. He rummages in his bag, before showing you some flowers.

They are small and white. Your eyes widen at their sight.

Moonflowers. They are one of your kind's favorites, but humans are not aware of that.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

He pushes the flowers towards you. You take a tentative claw out as you grab the plants from his hand, and he smiles.

How does he know that? You are fairly sure that only few of the Star Menders are even aware of this knowledge.

The kid mutters words you do not understand, but you do catch his concern for you. In that moment you realize that he is feeding you.

Taking care of you.

You are not sure what to think of it. Is the kid worried about the state of your wing, and wishes for your speedy recovery?

He looks at you. He seems to be waiting for something.

You look at the flowers. You pinch away a petal out of one of them. Stars don't really have a peculiar diet: you are able to survive with just moonlight, but here on the mortal lands you can eat anything you desire. You surmise the boy is not aware of this fact and, much like a worried mother for her kin, he worries about you. But he still got your kin's favorite food.

You need him to guide you to the Star Menders and worry will not help either of you. So you eat.

You had never eaten a Moonflower before. You had just heard the tales from your brethren, some of them so passionate about them that they'd leave the skies just for a taste of them. You never did such a thing but, as the petal reaches your tongue, you understand why they'd do that.

You have never eaten something so sweet such as this.

You nod in approval.

He seems happy.

The day continues on its course, until the sun paves the way for the moon. As your brethren appear in the sky, the first bold ones twinkling in the dark expanse, your wings open a little on instinct. Your hands itch at the thought of flying once more, the wind on your back, and overseeing the world unfold under your wings.

The kid is sitting next to you and he, too, is watching the sky. His eyes are dreamy, full of wonder, like the little children of men when they stargaze with their caretakers. With their hands up in the sky, fingers curled trying to grab one of you, muttering words you cannot understand. Sometimes, one of you would indulge in their fantasies and stretch their claws towards them in an attempt to catch their hand, but all of you knew it would never happen. Only once a child has befriended a star, and that never happened again.

But stars are not made to act, you are made to watch and listen, therefore such behavior was considered an oddity, even among yourselves, especially after the Star Menders had fought for your kin.

Stars had forged a pact with the Earth, a very long time ago. Certain pieces of land were dedicated to your kin, places where high stone slabs emerged from the ground in particular formations. The Moonfields, as they were called, were the places where stars would ask for help if they were ever to fall to the ground, for any reason.

Such places became the perfect traps for the likes of the Star Hunters, who would lay and wait for their preys crouched under the shadows of the stones. The Star Menders – who still did not bore such a name – fought against the Star Hunters and reclaimed the star lands as their own, but still dedicated to you. They built their villages there and their towers with the roof made of glass and forged a pact with your kin, that persists until now.

The battle happened a very long time ago and most of your acquaintances in the belt of your sky path do not even remember it, but the echoes of its pain still linger. You all realize that humans are not dangerous, only some of them are. It only made the ancestral law that had always guided you ever stronger.

You do not know what happened to the star who had broken the ancestral law.

However, your brethren would sometimes descend the skies at the end of the night, when the stars are out for their last moments and all the world is donned in blue, and reach for the children's bedrooms and take their hand through their windows.

You never did that. You were always content enough to hear the men whisper their prayers to the skies and to observe them from above. It satisfied your curiosity, and that was enough. You never thought to enter in contact with them.

So, that morning, when the sun rose and the kid took your hand, signaling his readiness to start the journey together, it was the first time you ever felt the warmth of human touch.