The Stars Came In Screaming

20250914

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Cassie hobbled up the mountain path as quickly as her hip could withstand, clinging tight to young Jacob’s shoulder.
He was too small to carry supplies. She was too feeble. So they climbed together while others hauled everything up to the Star Field.
Overhead the sky was bright as midday, teeming with stars which grew larger by the minute. Not moving in their usual flowing, twirling dance, oh no. There was no etherial singing blessing the crowd below. Instead the ringing keening wail made Cassie’s heart pound with anxiety in her tight heaving chest.
Whatever that red glow had been which split the sky and roared like thunder, it’d driven the stars from their usual migration and sent them fleeing back to their birthing fields.
It was thirty years before they’d usually visit. And there had been no warning, no time for festivities or pilgrimages or training. The moment Cassie realised what she was seeing, that the stars were shooting directly towards the field, she’d gathered the entire village and set to preparing emergency care.
Back at her hut, her apprentice Nellie was directing children and elders in brewing medicines. Their usual stash would certainly not be enough for this. Anyone who couldn’t help at the field would be there, doing whatever they could. Even carrying water or tending a fire was vital right now.
Finally Cassie reached the field, and found Jon had gotten everyone organised. Bless him. Always a steady, sensible presence. Exactly what you wanted in a leader, especially during emergencies.
Tents were going up around the edges and supplies distributed. The welcome fire in the centre of the field was catching well, Edna’s three fanning it with all their might. Brands would be taken to light the stoves in each tent.
Jon beckoned Cassie to a stool by the fire, and Jacob gently helped her sit.
“Do they ever come in this fast?” Jon asked, his tone brisk and calm as if asking after a child’s growth. His eyes tracking the screaming stars overhead.
Too winded to reply, Cassie vehemently shook her head.
It should take days. And they moved in spirals, swooping patterns across the sky.
Jon tilted his head. In acknowledgement? In thought?
When he spoke his voice was soft and sombre. “Do you have any idea what that light was? That roar?”
Cassie shook her head again.
“Mm.” Jon cast another log onto the fire. “What do we do, if it follows them?”
That… Cassie froze, her mind awhirl. She’d barely thought about the cause of the star’s flight, caught up in preparing to aid them. But anything which could attack stars, could set them on the run like this… it must be fearsome indeed.
“I doubt there will be eggs.” Jon mused. “The century is nowhere near turning. But… if there are eggs… is it safe to carry them? Can we move them, perhaps to the cheese caves? So they are hidden and away from the sky.”
“That… yes.” Cassie wheezed. “We’ll need to… wrap them in many layers of wools, but… it will keep them warm enough for a while.”
“In case, then.” Jon nodded and stepped away to beckon Mathias over.
Directions would be given. A proper plan formed.
Just in case.
Cassie accepted a ladle of water from Jacob and sipped gratefully. The stars overhead were close now, their glow merging as they drew together, homing in on the beacon fire.
All around people were donning improvised robes, the fabric still ripe with callok fat. Strapping on hastily sewn eye-covers, or even simply tying black scarves over their eyes. Crude, unceremonious, and far less comfortable. But every hand was needed. And seeing the village rise to the call filled Cassie with pride and the hope that, perhaps, it would be enough.
And if it wasn’t, at least they had done everything they could.
She pulled her goggles on, handed down through generations of Star Carers. She hadn’t expected to wear them twice. Now properly shielded she could track the stars’ movements as they dove towards the field.
No beautiful swirling show. No chimed greetings. This time, the stars weren’t landing - they fell. One by one dropping to the ground and collapsing, that keening scream of fear and warning turning to plaintive gasps.
Cassie tugged on Jacob’s shoulder and he helped her up. While the villagers hurried to offer what blossoms they’d been able to find she inspected the stars and found exactly what she’d feared - gashes in their wings, skin peeling, limbs hanging limp or partially severed or even missing.
That light, that roar… it was something far more fearsome than lightning.
She sent Bertha rushing back to the hut to report what medicines were needed most, then set about directing care. Cursing her stiff fingers as she spread ointment and applied wrappings.
Keeping her attention firmly here, on the need before her, not the sky.
Jon had sent some of the youngest up the hill to act as watchers. If the red glow came… well, they’d see it coming.
Then what? She had no idea. Try and get the stars into the caves. Hope that the poor things could move, that they weren’t utterly exhausted by their mad dash here. And they’d put enough trust in the humans who’d watched over their eggs for generations that they’d venture into a dark enclosed space.
There was need, here and now. That was important. It was real. Save fretting for a quiet winter’s evening when the kitchen needed a good scrubbing.
‘If that horror comes, whatever it is, it’ll find us doing good work.’ Cassie told herself, gently patting the oldest star’s heaving side.
Despite the elder’s injuries, it’d propped itself up so it could peer skywards. Watching. Trying to guard the others, perhaps. Cassie nodded understanding and pushed a brazier under its snout so it could drink the steam.
“We’ve got you, friend.” She murmured. “May the heavens watch over us all.”

Prompt was “Write a piece which could be titled ‘When The Stars Fell’.”