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The moment Luna was thinking that this might be a nice outing after all, he was hit in the face with a branch.
“Sorry, Luna!”
Luna made a noise that might’ve been I’m fine, but also could’ve been senseless sputtering. It was not helped by the way his newfound lungs burned at the climb. He groaned when he looked up and saw just how much they had left to walk up.
Thing was, this was for all intents and purposes a ‘gentle path’. In the past, Earth had a habit of dragging Luna up much steeper, higher and frankly more dangerous mountains before. All in the name of a cool view, although Luna maintained there must be a way to see stuff without spending five hours walking through snow, but noooo, no that’s too easy. No, let’s climb up a cliff instead.
And so, here they were. On a relatively warm day, climbing up an uncharacteristically mild hill. It had taken a lot of negotiating, but the planet finally agreed to be merciful. Which is probably due to the other person here with us.
As if on cue, there was a rustle of branches and loose rocks followed by the unmistakable sound of Sun cursing the ground
“All good back there, Sun?” Earth called down.
A responding grumble confirmed that the star was most likely still alive.
It had actually been Luna’s suggestion that they do this, mostly due to how tense things still were. Not as much as they had been in the direct aftermath of the whole planet revolution, since the star finally had his breakthrough and started listening to them, but the lingering tension of everything else…
The sheer lack of gravity in their system weighed on them. Luna had grown used to the familiar fluctuations in gravity as everyone moved and left their orbits. Now not even Jupiter’s familiar gravity tugged on them.
Just empty space and asteroids and a suffocating stillness.
Luna tried not to think about how lonely it was. I miss the moon club. Stars, I think I’d even take Phobos and Deimos right now.
So, yeah. This change of scenery was probably good for them. Especially for Earth. Luna was worrying over him when everyone left. He’d given up so easily on the Sun. And on seeing the others ever again. Luna didn't want to see Earth lose his compassion, or sheer stubbornness over it. It had scared him.
The moon wondered where his own stubbornness had come from. If either of his progenitors had this streak of never giving up on people, the snippets of memories that leaked from them didn’t give him many clues. Maybe Theia? You’d have to be a particular kind of stubborn to want life, after all.
Or maybe it’s just a me thing. Maybe I don't know when to quit.
…Well, he thought, looking at the celestials walking beside him. I haven’t been wrong yet.
Earth had changed, their relationship had improved so much. And now, Sun was trying so, so hard to be better.
Before, Luna had never known quite what to make of their centre star. The planets were usually the only ones to interact with him, and so for most of Luna’s existence, the Sun was this distant, powerful, occasionally unstable force. Working indirectly with him and Earth to help Life flourish.
When Earthling myths about Sun and moon deities being siblings or lovers started to crop up, Luna remembered being confused by it. In the stories, the two celestial bodies were always connected, always in a pair. In reality, Luna thought he could count the number of times he’d actually conversed with Sun on one hand.
Then… well. Everything happened. And Astrodude had nearly died. And before Luna knew it he was teaching lessons of self improvement again. Without Mercury. He’d be better at this than me… or maybe not. I don’t think the last conversation between Mercury and the Sun went very well.
And it was difficult. Frustrating, even, but they’d made strides. And the star had opened up. And actually tried to listen to them.
("Um... Earth? Luna? Can we talk for a sec?"
“Sure. What’s this about?”
“I’ve never been very good at listening. I’m—“ Sun shook his head. “When… when you guys came back from the Kuiper Belt, you tried to explain what happened.”
“Right.”
“I didn’t… I… I’d like to hear the full story now.”)
It was strange for the Earth and Luna to have his sole attention now. But a good strange.
They stopped a little ways up to wait for Sun to catch up with them. Moss covered oak trees twisted themselves into strange shapes around them, avoiding their neighbours shade to reach for the sunlight above. When Luna crouched on the carpet of rustling dead leaves, he found little hard seeds with sprouting green shoots, presumably the next generation to grow in the old growth forest.
A low coo sounded above their heads, followed by the rapid flutter of wings as Sun’s loud approach startled the bird away.
“Why— do the Earthlings— do this?” Sun gasped when he got to them, doubling over with his hands on his knees. “It’s dreadfully inefficient. Why do they fight so hard against gravity? Is this meant to be fun?”
“Yup!” Earth rocked on his heels, eyes following something in a different tree before refocusing on Sun with a grin. “It’s also for the exercise. And the views.”
“Ah yes. The views.” Sun leaned against a tree, narrowing his eyes at Earth. “Lots of trees. And green. Very nice. We’ve seen it now so I guess it’s time to head back…?”
“We’ve barely started! And we need to get higher up to see the landscape.” And the planet was bounding up the slope again, knocking stones and stick out of their place. “C’mon, let’s go!”
They eventually left the shade of the trees, along with the ‘worst of the climb’ and were now walking with the sun shining directly into their eyes. Luna regretted not manifesting sunglasses
….Aaaaaaand Earth had chosen this moment to run forward and disappear. Typical.
Luna groaned and jogged to catch up. Come on, Earth. If you’re going to get distracted at least do it where I can keep an eye on you.
The path twisted and Earth… was not there. He couldn’t have gotten that far, surely.
But no, there was no sign of his stupid planet. Of course. Knowing Earth, he probably saw a life form he was excited about and was halfway up a tree or something. Like that one time in the Miocene when Earth had decided to run up to a terrorbirds because they were ‘cool’. If he’s gone chasing after something like that—
“Boo!”
Luna did not jump, and he did not scream. The moon spun around dizzyingly fast to see meet Earth’s grinning face poking over the top of the ferns where he had been lurking.
“Seriously?" Luna asked in a deadpan. "Now?”
“You’re just mad because I got you good,” Earth snorted. The green fronds rustled as he moved through them, each step accompanied by a crunch of dried stems underfoot. “Anyway, you want to see something cool?”
Luna pressed his lips together. “Are you just trying to scare me again?”
“Nope! Promise. Cross my heart. C’mon!” And that was all the warning Luna got before he was being dragged into the wall of green stems.
The scent burned his nose— stars, having a sense of smell is still so weird— and layers of dead ferns underfoot seemed determined to trip and swallow Luna up. Luckily, Earth did not drag him for long, stopping so suddenly that the moon rammed into him.
Earth shushed him and pulled them both down into a crouch, excitedly pointing through the stalks to show him a—…
“Oh! Is that a nest?” Luna whispered, leaning forward. Between a bundle of tall ferns, there was a woven bundle of plants with a brown speckled bird nestled comfortably within. Somehow, it had remained unfazed by their tromping around, tilting its head at Luna like it often had visitors trampling through. Its probably only so calm because of Earth. Still, shouldn't push my luck, I don’t want to scare it.
“Yeah. Skylarks.” Earth pointed up to where a blur was hovering high in the sky before it suddenly dropped and swooped down at them. “That’s the male. Defending the territory.”
A piercing whistle rose above and the male skylark climbed high before swooping again, much closer to where they were crouching. Luna chewed the inside of his cheek. “He doesn’t sound very happy with us."
“Yeah, probably not,” Earth conceded, stealing another curious glance back at the nest, but allowing Luna to tug his arm and following him back out. He sighed heavily. ”I wanted to get closer and see how many— ooh!”
And that meant Earth had spotted something else. Which meant they were stuck in the ferns for a bit longer. Luna exhaled, feeling mildly fond. It’s good to see him so energetic again. It unwound a ball of tension in his chest that had been sitting on his lungs, allowing his next breath in to come more easily.
“What’d you find?” Luna was already crouching beside him, ready for the next lecture of Earthling life.
He was directed to a glob of frothy white stuff –not too dissimilar to saliva– that clung stubbornly to a stalk.
“Er…” What in the universe am I looking at?
“Cuckoo spit!” Earth declared unhelpfully. The phrase was so nonsensical that Luna’s mind was sent spinning.
… Birds could spit? Wasn’t there an entire Norse myth explaining why birds didn’t spit? Did I miss something?
“It’s not actually spit. It’s actually a kind of bug called a froghopper that encases itself in this,” he pointed at the froth, “to protect itself from predators when it’s a nymph. I don't remember why they started calling it cuckoo spit, they just kind of do.”
“Huh. Cool.” Luna shrugged and tried to control his expression..
Earth tilted his head. “What’s with that face?”
“Nothing!”
Earth raised an eyebrow.
“… the mental image of a bird spitting is freaking me out.” He turned to glare at Earth when Luna heard a snicker, thumping him on the shoulder. “Don’t laugh!”
“I’m not!” He said, breaking into full on laughter while they fought their way out of the ferns. It wasn’t anywhere close to being funny, but a smile was fighting its way onto the moon’s face.
The pair finally escaped the grasping hands of the ferns and stepped into the open air, stretching and brushing themselves off. Luna looked over and huffed a laugh, reaching up. “You have leaves in your hair.”
“Do I— Luna, stop fussing—“
“Let me get them out!” Luna was all but climbing on top of Earth to brush the leaves out. How are there so many? “You look stupid otherwise.”
“You’re messing up my hair— Luna—!” Earth blocked Luna’s attempts to reach his hair and stepped back with a huff. The blue hair seemed to be impersonating a cloud now, despite Earth’s half hearted attempts to tame it. Luna managed to keep his giggled in, even when his planet glared at him. “If we see a cuckoo, I’m tell it to spit on you.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, I would. Just like I would do... this!” There was no more warning before Earth was punching forward and ruffling Luna’s hair into a mess, holding him when Luna squawked and pulled away.
“Earth!”
“There. Now it’s even.”
Luna wriggled out and tried to run his fingers through his now tangle hair with a scowl. “I didn’t even have leaves in my hair!”
“You don’t know that. You could’ve had a whole tree in your hair. You could’ve—“ he cut himself off and Luna looked up, still annoyed. Earth was looking around with a furrowed eyebrow, as if looking for something.
“What?”
“Where did Sun go?”
Is it even possible to fall any lower?
Abandoned, left behind to stew in his misery and now this. Falling victim to a planet's weak gravity and laying with his own light blinding him. He had to squint at his own light, how ridiculous was that!? Sol ought to be able to stare directly into his own celestial form without issue. Instead, all his attempts left him with strangely coloured afterimages and a growing headache.
Sol resisted the urge to let out an un-star like groan. Everything about this was humiliating and not at all how a star should be acting. Being entrapped in this organic body? By his own volition? He'd surely be a laughing stalk if he knew any other stars. Maybe it was best that he didn't. It was arguable that trying to act like a star was what got him into this situation in the first place.
He groaned anyway. Stars, he was unused to moving. Especially while navigating a surface that seems determined to trip me up at every step.
Luna and Earth would already be far ahead. The two walked a lot faster than he did. Moved a lot faster than he did. Which was strange, considering normally he was the fastest thing around. Not that the planets would have ever noticed, of course.
Something small skittered across his skin. He glanced down. A tiny creature wandered in meandering circles on his forearm, tickling the fine hair that grew their. This tiny beast seemed to have deemed him, a star who burned constantly, as a perfectly walkable surface.
At this point, why not?
In his true form, gravity was as easy to sense as light. If he fully truly concentrated, Sol knew he could feel every asteroid on their endless path, tugging on each other and him at his centre. The minor fluctuations as the planets pulled and pushed from their orbits. Able to influence everything and everyone if he so desired, hold everything up due to his sheer mass.
And yet in this form, tiny Earthlings could walk all over him and he’d be none the wiser. There’s probably some kind of irony to this. I don’t care.
Sol lifted a hand to swipe it off, then paused. He brought his hand closer to inspect. Light, deep pink-red marks were staining his skin and seeping into the lines of his palm. Huh? Was that bad? Earth said something about blood a few times. Was this blood? Wasn’t that meant to stay inside? Whoops.
Only it didn’t seem to be coming from him. And as he understood it, blood usually followed an injury of some sort. Sol had fallen, but he didn’t feel injured.
He sat up, eyes trailing to the plants he had landed among. Scraggly things, with firm but thin trunks that crunched whenever he moved. Upon closer inspection, the yellow-green leaves held small blue-black orbs that came off the stalks with ease.
He rolled the orbs in his fingers. They left the same pink residue on his fingers. Do plants bleed? Am I hurting the plant?
“Sun? Sun where'd you go?"
Oh, they were looking for him. With a flush, Sol realised he’d been laying in the dirt feeling sorry for himself for an embarasingly long time.
“Here,” he called out, shifting his legs to make it seem like he didn’t fall down in a bout of clumsiness. The shrubs seemed intent on hindering his movement and snagging on all his clothes.
“Sun?” Earth’s head appeared over the fronds. He spotted him quickly and bounded over with humiliating ease. “What are you doing down there?”
“Taking in the sights.”
“…on the ground?”
Sol didn’t dignify that with an answer. Just stared at Earth, unamused.
“You going to get up any time soon?”
If I must.
Sol shifted with a grunt to sit up. Earth gave him a once over before nodding, seemingly satisfied with whatever he was looking for. His eyes trailed down to the strange orbs that Sol still held. “I see you’ve found the whimberries. They’re fruit.”
The star looked at them sceptically. Earth took his bemusement as permission and went on a ramble about ‘fruit’. About how it was a part of a plant that was a part of the reproductive system, made specifically for—
“Eating!?” He looked at the small balls on the shrug “Are you suggesting I eat my plants? The ones that use my energy to grow? Gross!”
“Well, that’s what they were made for. The plant grows fruit on purpose to be eaten by animals—“ Earth paused to hop down from the mound he was walking along, “—so it will disperse the seeds.”
They were back to walking, although Earth and Luna had slowed down their pace considerably, which Sol was both frustrated and relieved about. He didn’t have to heave and inhale as much to catch up. It also helped that the incline had shallowed so much they were basically walking over flat ground. A much less abhorrent experience.
Sun considered the fruit in his hand. Dried spots of pink-red dotted his fingers. He felt curiosity waver over his resolve.
Absolutely not, He told himself. A star should not stoop to this behaviour.
He picked a new one off a passing shrub, letting it roll into his palm.
… but, he reasoned. Since they were made to be eaten…
Sol wasn’t sure what he was expecting. It tasted… hmm. He didn’t really have the vocabulary for tastes. A little tart, he supposed. Bits of the skin got in his teeth and he had to use his tongue to get it all out.
What an awful organic experience, he thought, leaning down to pick more from the shrub. The next ones were larger and tasted sweeter. He picked more until he had a good handful, chewing thoughtfully as he walked.
He lifted his head and saw Earth and Luna looking at him. Earth raised his eyebrows. Sol bristled, defensively declaring, “They used my energy to grow these. My light and power. Therefore, I have the right as a star to eat however many I want.”
To emphasise his point, he shoved a bunch into his mouth, and— eurgh there was a leaf in there too. Ew. Sol swallowed it all down while maintaining eye contact.
Earth shrugged, lifting his hands. “I’m not saying anything.”
“Good!” Sun picked more.
“That beast is looking at me.” Sun mumbled once they had sat down in the shade of an old stone wall.
“Hm?” Earth was barely paying attention. He’d overturned a rock and was watching the wood lice and worms wriggle about in the dirt. There were a lot of ants too, there was probably a nest nearby. He wondered if he could find it before the three of them moved on.
“It’s glaring,” Sun continued with a low voice. “With those beady eyes. It’s challenging me.”
Earth finally glanced over to see what he was talking about. “…Sun."
"Terra."
"That's a sheep.”
A ewe flicked its ear lazily at them from where it was half hidden in the ferns. After a moment of regarding the group, it went back to grazing.
“Earth,” Sun said without breaking his gaze. “Exactly how mad would you be if I decided to show that beast it’s place?”
“Please don’t fight a sheep. It’ll be a pain to explain to the farmer.” Although… It would be really funny. Maybe I should encourage him.
Sun huffed, leaning back. “The Earthlings used to sacrifice these beasts to me. Now I’m being mocked by one and I can’t even defend my own honour.”
Earth snorted. “She’s not mocking you.”
It baa’ed at them before ambling off to another patch of grass. Movement in the ferns was the only warning before it was joined by a small army of white wool, all of them baaing quite amicably.
“I don’t know, Earth.” Luna sat a little higher on the old wall, narrowing his eyes at the sheep walking. “It seemed malicious.”
“See? Luna agrees with me, it’s two against one.”
Earth looked between the pair and rolled his eyes. “I’m the planet that sheep evolved on, I think my vote counts for at least two celestials.” Earth carefully set the stone back over the insects and stretched his back. “Therefore it’s a tie.”
“Oh, no." I mean two against one in the fight with that woolly beast.” Sun grinned at him and pushed himself up. “Come on Luna. With our combined force it will be an easy victory.”
Luna gawked at Sun. “I am not fighting a sheep!"
"Afraid you'll lose?"
"Not helping, Earth."
The grass previously underfoot had turned into a well trodden dirt path that cut through the ferns and shrubs alike, which in turn had transformed to wet mud as they crossed several streams that flowed down the mountain, sometimes deciding to try its luck in swallowing Luna's foot. Luna shook his head as something decided to swoop with an angry buzzzzz towards his ear, nearly making him lose his balance and holding out an arm to steady himself.
There was a tumble of the floor giving away underfoot followed by a yelp and a splash.
Oh no, Luna sighed. Sun fell again.
Except the star was very much still upright when Luna turned to face him, with no hint of having slipped in the mud. Instead, the star was staring further down into the dip with amusement and the moon followed his gaze.
A flailing Earth was hauling himself out of a shallow stream, spluttering and dipped in slick red mud. He turned to the other two watching him with raised eyebrows, spitting out some dust and declaring, “No one saw that!”
Luna waited for Earth to turn around before showing Sun his new phone, and the new video he had just recorded.
“So,” Earth started with a drawl, loping forward to walk alongside the star. The sun warmed the sides of their faces now, instead of beaming directly into their eyes. “You’re like, super old, right?”
“That’s a strong start, Terra.” Sun sounded more amused than annoyed, that meant Earth could probably get away with what he wanted to ask.
“You are billions of years old.”
“I’ve only just turned twenty.”
“…”
“… in galactic years." Sun clarified. "I'm practically a spring hen, or whatever the phrase is. Although," he paused, looking at the sky with a put-on sigh. "I certainly feel old sometimes. Especially when certain rocky planets cause me undue stress. Starting several revolutions, wandering into the Kuiper Belt unannounced...”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Earth rolled his eyes. “Next time I’ll schedule my unexpected trance to a better time so I won’t stress you out. How inconsiderate of me.”
Sun beamed, only looking slightly less crazed than normal. “Like you said, I’m an old celestial. Stress is bad for the heart, or whatever that saying is.”
“We don’t have hearts.”
“We do now. I said so.”
It was surprisingly fun to talk to the Sun. Earth never even thought he would think those words. Maybe he was going a little crazy too over the lack of conversational partners. Man, I miss Mars.
He missed everyone. Deeply. And, like always, he’d had to stay behind with no clue when or if he would ever see them again. I still don’t know. I don’t think they’ll come back on their own. And the rogues hadn’t exactly left a way to contact them.
Earth doubted he would've talked to Sun much if everyone was here, though. He’d learned a lot about his parent star in the last few weeks, and Sun was listening and not threatening to flare him every five seconds (he was mildly surprised pigs hadn't spontaneously grown wings at this point). Earth had found he actually had many questions to ask the star, and even more surprised he'd gotten anwers to them.
(“What’s a supernova like?” Earth hadn’t known why he’d asked that. Luna was asleep and so was his filter apparently.
The Sun hadn’t shot a flare at him. He hadn’t done that in a while. He hadn’t gotten angry, although his body stiffened and the light seemed to still.
It was a bad question to ask. Earth didn’t know why he’d asked it. He still didn’t know why he’d actually gotten an answer.
“Silent.”)
He shook off the memory, turning back to his original goal. “So, since you’re so ancient—“
“—this is just rude at this point—“
“— then you remember when everyone were protoplanets, right?”
Sun huffed, almost insulted. “What kind of a question is that? Of course I do.” He straightened up. “It’s my duty as a star to remember all of my satellites, as well as their radius, designation—“
“Yup! Got it.” Earth waved him off, leaning toward him.. “In that case… do you have any embarrassing baby stories?”
Sun tilted his head suspiciously. That wasn’t a no. “For what reason?”
“Blackmail purposes.” He said, then immediately regretted it. Urgh. I should've said that I wanted to hear stories because I miss everyone. Which was true, just not his primary motivation. His main motive was, in fact, blackmail.
The star didn’t answer for a while, and Earth's hope dwindled .But then Sun turned to him with a glint in his eye and a mischievous smile.
“I remember,” The star began conspiratorially. Earth immediately gave him his undivided attention. “That Venus had quite a strange phase. He insisted on finding dark asteroids and mixing them with water to dry and darken his hair and robes. For a few of his orbits, he went around acting all gloomy and talking about darkness and emotions.”
It took a moment for the dots to connect in his mind. Earth opened his mouth in equal parts shock and glee. “Venus had an emo phase!?”
The star hummed, looking to the side as he flicked through old memories. “Theia encouraged it, if I remember correctly." For once, his voice didn't catch on her name. "I think she also joined in. Yes, she dyed her robes black for a couple of orbits too, and insisted on wearing her hair forward so it covered her eyes.”
“... Theia had an emo phase!?" What was Earth meant to do with this information? "Do you have pictures? No, of course you wouldn’t. Fuck. I need full details, Sun. Tell me everything."
"There isn't too much to say. It's not like it lasted as long as Uranus'."
"WHAT?"
“No. I’m not doing that.”
“But the view is better from up there!” Earth protested.
“Nuh uh. The view is perfectly fine from here." Sun clapped his hands together. "We’ve seen the view, so we can go down now.”
“It’s not that far.”
Sun craned his head to look at the path that lead to the peak of the mountain, the little multicoloured blobs that were distant Earthlings making their way up and down, and spun on his heel to take the other path that looped downward. “Nope! This is enough walking for today. We are not extending it.”
“Sun—“
“Lalalala I’m walking this way now~”
Luna watched the retreating figure and sighed, crossing his arms. “… we should probably follow him, Earth.”
Earth wrinkled his nose.
“Do you want him to get lost?”
“Would it really be the worst thing to— ow! Fine!”
“Hey, hey, Luna. You hear that? You know what that is?”
Sol tilted his head to try and guess at what Earth could possibly be pointing out. There was just a general raucous of Earthlings doing Earthling things. There was no conceivable way to pick out any one sound.
Luna seemed to have caught on, however, because the moon was narrowing his eyes at Earth.
Earth grinned. “A cuckoo.”
Sol had barely blinked, but Luna had disappeared from his side and there was a blur as suddenly Earth was tackled into a wall of soft grass. Well, that escalated quickly.
He’d never had to break up fights between the two, he didn’t particularly want to start now, but— oh. Earth was giggling and shrieking. That’s probably a good sign. Yeah, he didn't have to intervene, thank the stars. This was going on for a while, though, and Sol wanted to return to orbit.
“Are you two done?” Sol called out after a minute. The sounds of playfighting stopped and a few minutes later, the star had wrangled all of them so they could hopefully get off this mountain sooner.
“What’s a cuckoo?” Sol asked to break the silence.
“Oh, a type of bird.” Earth stated. He was visibly restraining himself from what would no doubt be a dump of information.
They walked in relative silence for a few more moments.
Sun sighed, deciding to put Earth out of his misery. “What do cuckoos do, then.” In these last few weeks he’d learned more than he’d ever care to know about Earth’s organisms. He misses when he thought eating each other was the worst of it. “Drink blood?”
“No, of course not. Vampire ground finches do that but they don’t live here.” Sun raised his eyebrows but Earth was already barrelling on. “They’re brood parasites, actually—“
“What?” Luna interrupted loudly. “Cuckoos are those birds?
Earth turned to his moon with a confused expression. “What did you think I was talking about earlier?”
Luna shrugged, gesturing vaguely “I just thought of that song. You know, the 'sumer is icumen in, ludhe sing cuccu' that one. There’s lots of birds and stuff in that song.”
Huh. Sol had been thinking of the phrase ‘going cuckoo’, which had often been thrown around in reference to him. Especially in recent times. So we were both off.
“Oh, yeah that too. They're also on clocks, but that doesn't matter. Anyway," Earth pointed and made a swivelling as if he was physically bringing himself back to his original point. "They're brood parasites. They’ve lost the ability to build nests, so the mother cuckoo lays her eggs in other birds' nests so the chick will be raised by someone else. Usually a different species."
That sounded lazy on the part of the cuckoo. Sol felt himself zoning out. Wait. I'm meant to be listening. Right.
“The eggs hatch, and the cuckoo chick instinctively pushes the host's eggs or chicks out of the nest, to improve its chances for survival." Earth continued, unaware of how the stars' chest had suddenly gone tight.
He pressed a hand to his chest, blinking hard. In his usual form, this would signal an incoming solar flare. Here, he just felt suddenly... off. He was definetly paying attention now.
"Don't the parents realise it's not their egg?" Luna was asking.
"Cuckoo eggs have evolved to mimic the host species," Earth explained, cupping his hands to make an egg shape. "Their survival depends on whether they successfully trick the parents."
Sol felt stuck all of a sudden. Did birds grieve? Was the mother bird confused when she came back and all her eggs were gone? Was she aware they lay abandoned below the nest, pushed out and left to die? Would she ever figure out she'd been tricked?
(Broken, rocky remains of planets flashed through his mind-)
“What would the bird do," Sol blurted, "when it found out about the lie?"
Earth didn’t speak for a moment, looking at Sol oddly. He spoke slightly slower than before. “Before the cuckoo hatches, if the host is pretty sure that it’s not her egg, she’ll probably eject it from the nest. After it hatched, well..." he shrugged. "She’d consider it her baby. She’d raise it. Feed it. Cuckoo chicks eat a lot, so it’s unlikely that the parents would have a second brood that season. They’d be overworked from raising one cuckoo.”
“Even if it knew that it had killed the rest of her young, it would still take care of it?"
"I... don't think warblers would understand that." Earth rubbed the back of his neck. "They might be surprised that their chick grew so much bigger than them. But to them, they have raised offspring that survived and thrived."
The bird raising a bigger bird that wasn’t its own. That had actually killed its defenceless young, pushed them out to shatter on the ground. If the bird could understand, would it feel betrayed? Angry that the being it had raised had kept it hidden for so long, and it was the reason that nothing else survived?
…but was it the cuckoo’s fault? For being born into destructive instincts?
No. It is young. It can’t know to supress its nature.
Sol knew that well. Stars, even if you did know better, you could still mess up and destroy everything.
Sun slowed his pace, staring at the ground and trying to swallow the ripples of confusing emotions that had risen in his sternum. Its not right to blame it, when it was so young. It is not the cuckoo's fault.
Then he blinked hard, shaking his head so fast that his hair whipped him and stamping away the embers in his gut. You are a star. It is a bird. Stop getting caught up in this.
Luna appeared by his side suddenly, eyebrows drawn together. "You alright?"
Sun nodded, unclenching his fists and jaw and forcing himself to breath out slowly. "It's nothing. I'm fine."
The moon didn't look convinced, but didn't push. "I suppose its a bit of a long walk if you're not that used to it."
"I am not used to walking in general," Sun felt the need to point out. His legs and feet were burning, and it wasn't the familiar sensation that came with his nuclear fusion. This burn was distinctly unpleasant. "I don't exactly make a habit of it."
Luna puffed out his cheeks. "Right, yeah. Forgot about that." He gently nudged Sol. "We're nearly done now, anyway. Then we can rest back in our orbits."
"Thank the stars." He didn't like this 'hiking' very much at all.
...It was quite nice to be included, however. Maybe it wasn't completely useless.
Sol's eyes trailed a winged, grey shape as it flew out from the tree cover. Cuck-oo, Cuck-oo, it called as it was silhouetted against the lowering sun, flying across the half full moon that had risen in the still blue sky.