Every night, before she went to sleep, Luna would climb onto her windowsill and look up at the stars.
One night, to her great surprise, the stars whispered back.
"Luna," they sighed, like a thousand tiny bells. "We have a story for you."
Luna pressed her nose against the glass and listened.
"Long ago," the stars whispered, "when the world was very new, the sky was completely dark. No moon. No stars. Just the deep, soft darkness."
"Then one by one, children started to dream. And every beautiful dream floated up into the sky — and became a star. A dream about flying became a shooting star. A dream about friendship became a twin star, two lights always together."
Luna looked at the stars differently now. Each one, a dream. Each one, a story.
"What star am I?" she asked.
The stars shimmered. "You are our favourite," they whispered. "Because you still look up."
Luna smiled and climbed into bed.
Outside her window, the stars shone a little brighter — quietly keeping watch, the way they always do.
Sleep now, little dreamer. Your stars are waiting.