The Fallen Star. Tracey Hecht

      “Oh goodness, there goes another one! And another and another!” Tobin cried. The pangolin’s eyes grew wide as he pointed up into the night sky. His scales covered his body like the leaves of an artichoke, and now they quivered with excitement.

      “I’ve never seen so many shooting stars!” He eagerly pointed them out to his friends, Bismark, a sugar glider, and Dawn, a red fox, who sat on either side of him. Perched on a low, sturdy branch of Bismark’s pomelo tree, they had a perfect view of the streaks of light darting across the sky.

      “Ah, yes, the heavens are ablaze!” Bismark leaned in toward the fox. “Though nothing rivals the flame of our true love—isn’t that right, mon amour?” The sugar glider, who resembled a squirrel with his dark round eyes, long furry tail, and small limbs, gave the fox a quick wink.

      “The sky does appear quite curious this evening,” Dawn replied, ignoring her small friend.

      Following the fox’s gaze, Bismark and Tobin watched three more stars zip through the sky, tails of fire trailing in their wake. Each star briefly cast the shadowy treetops throughout the forest in a soft, blue, glittering light.

      “Oh my,” Tobin said, clasping his claws together. “They just keep coming! Have you ever seen so many shooting stars at once?”

      Dawn watched another set of stars flash through the night like a school of silver minnows swimming in a dark pond. Her eyes flared with their reflection. The sky was indeed fascinating tonight.

      “It’s the most beautiful, brilliant sky I’ve ever seen!” Tobin added.

      “Beautiful, yes, but brilliant? Not quite.” Bismark stood up on his short, scrawny legs. “For true brilliance, mi amigo, look no further than the star of the stars, the flame of the fire, the–”

      “Bismark–” Dawn interrupted.

      “–spectacle of the spectacular!” Bismark finished proudly, and flung out his arms so that his flaps, the stretchy skin connecting his four limbs, billowed in the breeze. Then, with a loud whoop, the glider launched from his perch, letting the warm nighttime air lift him. With the air ballooning beneath his flaps, he sailed to another branch of his pomelo tree with ease.

      “And that, mes amis, is the true shooting star of the valley!” Bismark lowered his head with a bow.

      Tobin clapped his long, taloned claws together and giggled with delight.

      Dawn raised an eyebrow, but her lips curved into a small smile. Then she returned her gaze to the sky, just in time to watch another smattering of shooting stars crisscross above.

      “Well then,” continued Bismark, lowering his arms and surveying the branches overhead. “If my flaps don’t catch your fancy, mon amour, perhaps my fruit will. What’s a star show without a little snack, anyway? Who’s up for a pomelo?”

      “Oh goodness,” said Tobin. The bulky belly of his anteater-like body rumbled at the thought. “A pomelo would be lovely.”

      “Yes, yes, scaly one. We know you’re always hungry!” Bismark reached for one of the glistening, golden-green citrus fruits hanging heavily from the branch above his head and plucked it with a snap. “And for you, mi bella? A little bit of sugar for my sweet?”

      Dawn nodded, but her amber eyes remained fixed on the stars above.

      The glider scurried across the branch and around the tree trunk to his friends, a plump grapefruit-like pomelo in hand. “Your wish is my command!”

      With a slick swish of his claws, Bismark split the pomelo open and sliced it into thirds. Its skin—coral, emerald, and gold—unfurled to reveal a treasure of ruby-red wedges within. “Voilà!” he exclaimed. “Here it is!”

      “Oh goodness,