During the dark and frigid hours of winter's everlasting night, when the silver moon guides all those who dance in her celestial, elegant light, like a spot light overhead in a Broadway play, were two teenagers up to no good. As they were every night. 

“We ain’t gonna get caught at them farms this time,” one of them reassured the other with a growing, malicious smirk. “Ain’t that right, Ronnie?’
And Ronnie would always sigh, as he did every time he was led on with the same line of false hankering. “Nicole, you said that the last time we were out here. Just before we got caught by our necks like wee mutts and just like the time before that. You ain’t kidding nobody.”

“But we always come back,” she said, punching his arm jovially. 

His sigh came again, though lighter with the same adolescent energy. “And we always come back,” he repeated. 

The wind hissed promises of foretold trouble, seemingly traditional every night at this ticking hour. It urged them to go back in the sharp nips it too at their noses, like a puppy begging it’s owners for attention. 

The farms were near now. All that remained in between them and the delicacies of eggs and prized produce was the towering metal fence. 

The procedure started off as typical as it did every night: Nicole hopped the fence and looked around for any hound dogs or farmers at their supposed post. When she thought the coast was clear, she hissed for Ronnie to hurry it up over her shoulder, and soon they were in. 

They creeped around the grounds like sly foxes, about to enter the nearby coop when the man's familiar bark came abruptly.

“THEY’RE HERE AGAIN! DON’T LET THEM ESCAPE!”
Gunshots popped like fireworks. In an instant Ronnie and Nicole bolted, pushing through the sharp pain in their sides from running, through the fence wiring tearing apart their clothes and past the lingering grim reaper waiting for them outside the fence, outstretching a bony hand in their direction. 

When the coast was clear and the adrenaline surging through their veins subsided, Nicole and Ronnie arrived in a clearing where the moon was visible through the trees. 

“Oh boy,” Nicole chuckled, dragging herself over to her buddy. She clutched his shoulder to steady herself as they both fell to their knees. She patted his back. “What a treat that was, aye Ronnie? That was–” she paused upon removing her hand from him. The warmth of a pooling liquid stained her dirty mitts, and in the moonlight stared back at its daunting, crimson presence. 

  “Ronnie?” Nicole shook him again, waiting for him to get back up but he never did. “Ronnie, are you alright? Ronnie, this ain’t funny. Talk to me. Ronnie? Ronnie! Ronnie, please I–”
It took an entire day to bury his body. Only after a long night of praying he’d be better in the morning, and another day spent gathering berries and soup she’d traded her coat for to try and feed him, Nicole acknowledged the reality of their situation–now only hers to deal with. 

            Every night Nicole would visit him, crying one way or another between the anger and deep depressions that set in from losing her best friend. 

Around seven months later, when grief unclutched its claws from her throat and allowed her to breathe, the moonlight shone particularly bright through the bountiful July trees. Not a cloud was in the sky, only the twinkling stars in a navy blue galaxy far, far away. 

“I’m sorry,” she began, as she did every night, “for everything.”
“I forgive you,” his voice returned. 

Nicole glanced up, and in the sky above her, made out of constellations was Ronnie’s  smiling face watching over her. She hollered his name, jumping up and down in complete awe.
“It’s really you!” she proclaimed. “I thought I’d never see you again. Whatchu doing all the way up there for?” 

“I’ve been watching you. From the stars,” he said. “That’s what stars are. Reformed human souls, like the eyes of a great beast or god looking down upon her children. I’ve been with you every single night you’ve come up here. And Nicole,” he spoke gently,“I forgive you. Thank you for keeping me company.”
“Them farmers are the ones who got jail time, not me,” she chuckled. “Guess we weren’t them feral foxes they thought we were. Oh well. I’ll always be here, with you. Every single night, brother. Even when I can’t make it back all the way here, we will still be together, under the moon,” she spoke boldly, puffing out her chest. “I’ll always come back.”

Ronnie’s eyes softened. “We’ll always come back.”