Night and Day

Two young tapejaras scuttled along the cliffs their flock called home. Both tapejaras had jet-black feathers, but the elder, Sunbeam, had yellow splashes on her wings, and the younger Shooting Star had white stripes all along his body.

From the moment she was born, Sunbeam never felt like she belonged with the rest of her flock. She had hatched just as the sun came out after a storm, and combined with her yellow markings, it earned her her name. Her siblings were always tussling and fighting over the food their parents brought home, but Sunbeam never saw the point in it. She preferred watching the sky. In the days before she could fly, she spent all her time on ledges (much to her parents’ fright), letting the breeze tickle her feathers, drawing her away from the nest. She wasn’t meant for her birthplace. She belonged somewhere else; she felt a calling from somewhere far, far away.

Then, weeks later, Shooting Star’s little beak pierced through his egg right as a meteor shower began. Before she even saw the white streaks and stripes on his face, Sunbeam knew that Shooting Star was special, in the same way she was.

No one else in the flock understood them. They weren’t cruel, but Sunbeam could feel a wall between them, as tall and mighty as the cliffs they roosted in.

“There you two are.” Blink, the current on-duty babysitter, landed next to them. “I swear, you two are always wandering off somewhere…”

“Sorry, Blink.” Shooting Star, being the youngest, was hungry for anyone’s approval, though he valued Sunbeam’s the most.

Sunbeam herself didn’t really care about what the others thought of her, but she knew that if Blink thought she was up to something, she wouldn’t let her out of the nest ever again. “We’re just getting some fresh air.”

“Well, let’s head inside, yeah?” Blink turned her gaze up to the sky. “The sky’s being weird today, and I don’t like it.”

The sky’s weirdness was the fact that the full moon was still in the sky, even though the sun had been up for hours. Its faint white shape loomed above them, and Sunbeam hadn’t been able to get her mind off of it since she noticed it.

She hatched during a storm. Shooting Star hatched during a meteor shower.

The moon’s presence had to be a sign. Maybe what Blink thought didn’t matter at all…

“Get behind me,” she whispered to Shooting Star. He startled, but swiftly followed her instructions.

Sunbeam couldn’t throw away this opportunity—today would be special, just like the day when they’d hatched. Why else would the moon be out during the daytime? Sunbeam even had numbers to prove it. She’d hatched sixteen days before Shooting Star, and now it had been sixteen days since he hatched. And everyone knew that you needed at least three dinosaurs to make a flock; two was just a pair. There weren’t any eggs left at the roost. Whoever their third was, they’d have to search for them elsewhere.

And if they went back with Blink, they might not get another chance.

Luckily, all of Shooting Star’s young flight feathers had grown in by now, and Sunbeam was certain she’d be able to look after him.

Blink eyed them both warily. “Sunbeam-”

And Sunbeam didn’t wait for her to finish. She spun around and jumped off of the cliff, with Shooting Star hot on her tail.

Below the cliffs was a dense pine forest, which the two of them were able to glide into easily. Since they were only little tapejaras, Sunbeam and Shooting Star couldn’t fly for long. They swooped from tree to tree, taking frequent breaks when their young wings grew tired. Their dark shapes fluttered through the woods like bats. Blink tailed them, but the hatchlings could blend in with the shadows cast by the branches, and hide in little nooks she couldn’t reach.

“Psst, Sunbeam, look.” Shooting Star nudged her in the hollow they were resting in. “The moon’s getting higher.”

It was difficult to see through the branches, but if Sunbeam angled herself in just the right way, she could see that her friend was right. The moon was still making its way across the sky, inching closer and closer to the sun.

“It’ll catch up with the sun soon,” she said. What happened when the sun and moon where in the same place? Could they share? She was about to ask Shooting Star, but a dark shape dashed past their hiding space, and they both went silent. They waited for nearly a full minute, until neither of the hatchlings could stand holding still any more. When Sunbeam poked her head out of their hiding place, Blink was nowhere to be seen.

“Let’s keep going,” she said after they’d stretched their wings a bit, and then they were off again.

As they flew further away from their home, they began to hear voices. Not familiar ones, either.

The pair soon came to the edge of the woods, and there they found the source of the noise: a large herd of parasaurs had gathered in the field, grazing and frolicking in the afternoon sun. The beasts were absolutely titanic to the young tapejaras, but Sunbeam wasn’t scared of them at all.

After all, the herbivores were guarding nests. If Sunbeam was going to find the rest of her flock anywhere, it would be with them.

“Let’s go, Shooting Star!”

He eagerly followed after her as she flew out into the open—if she didn’t show fear, he wouldn’t feel any. The parasaur herd was larger than their flock, and as they flew, Sunbeam counted at least 30 of them dotting the grassy field like large, colorful stones. With so many nests around, that number would only increase. They flew in circles above them for a while. Sunbeam kept her eyes out for anything that felt right, but she didn’t actually know what that meant. Every nest looked the same…

Out of exhaustion more than anything, she decided on a pair to try talking to: a tan female with stripes and spots, and a dark brown male covered in swirls and white patches.

The female noticed them first. “Oh! Hello, little ones!”

“Hello,” Sunbeam said quietly, landing on her back. Flying above them was one thing, but being near them made her realize just how large the parasaurs were. It was hard to not be in awe of their size.

“Hi!” Shooting Star landed on the male’s back, making him start.

“They’re just tapejaras, Tango,” the female laughed. “And hatchlings, at that! Nothing to be afraid of.”

“Sorry.” Tango glanced between the three of them, seemingly trying to apologize to all of them at once. “Today’s been so weird…”

“Because of the moon?” Sunbeam asked.

The female parasaur nodded. “No one knows why it’s still out, and some of us”—she smiled teasingly at Tango—“are a little on edge.”

“That’s okay,” Sunbeam said. “We’re not scared of the moon.”

“We’re brave!” Shooting Star puffed his chest out proudly.

“I’m Sunbeam, and that’s Shooting Star.”

“My name is Emmeline,” said the tan para.

“Tango.”

Sunbeam nodded, and looked over at the nest nearest to them. This one was smaller than the others, can contained only a single round egg. "Whose nest is this?"

“Oh, that one.” Emmeline shook her head, a sad smile on her face. “The mother of this nest was taken by albertosauruses a few days ago, the poor thing. But we’re doing our best to make sure it hatches. It’s part of the herd, no matter what.”

“And it looks like it’ll be hatching soon,” Tango said. He looked back at Shooting Star. “If you two stick around, maybe you’ll be able to meet them.”

Emmeline’s frown turned stern. “You shouldn’t encourage them. Their parents must be worried sick. Are you two from the flock on the cliffs?”

“They aren’t worried!” Sunbeam said quickly. “We’re big tapejaras! We can stay out as late as we want, right, Shooting Star?”

“Right!”

Emmeline opened her mouth, likely to chastise them, but stopped short. The sky was turning dark—and quickly. All four of them turned their heads to the sky.

It wasn't a billowing cloud that was blocking out the sun. It was the moon, still climbing higher.

Just as the world plunged into night…

CRACK!

Sunbeam’s eyes were too muddled by the sudden darkness to see it, but she knew that the little parasaur had just poked its head out from its eggshell. She heard more crackling below her, and the sound of a body falling over into the dirt.

The sound was soon drowned out by chaos erupting around her.

“The Sun is gone!” Tango shrieked. “Gone!”

“Tango-” Emmeline started, but he wasn’t listening to her. And others were shouting, too, including Emmeline, trying to get them under control. All Sunbeam could do was cling to her and try not to fall off and into the darkness, where panicked hooves could easily crush her.

It took her a while to realize that she had no idea where Shooting Star had gone. He couldn’t hear him anymore. Was he clinging to Tango, like she was with Emmeline? Where had Tango run off to? She couldn’t pick out his voice in the cacophony, even though he’d been yelling before. As confident as she’d been that she was leading the two of them to their destiny, now it felt like the world was erupting around her, and she didn’t know what to do about it…

Suddenly, Emmeline yelped, and Sunbeam went tumbling to the ground. She landed on sharp pieces of eggshell. As she pushed herself upright, a wet snout pressed against her side.

“Hello?” It was still too dark for her to see much, but Sunbeam was sure it was the newly-hatched parasaur. She expected the para to call out in response, but she didn’t make a sound. Instead, she nudged her again, this time under her chin. If she strained her eyes, she could just barely make out the para’s outline—her head alone was bigger than Sunbeam’s whole body.

“You’re not much of a talker, huh?”

The para continued to stare, silent.

“That’s okay. I get it.” She reached out and carefully laid a paw on the para’s snout. The chaotic world around them seemed far away and muddled, as though reality had shrunken to the size of their little nest. Yes, this must have been the new friend she was meant to look out for…

Another voice sounded high above them, barely audible. “Sunbeam?”

“Shooting Star!” She stood up and flapped her wings, as if her friend had any hope of spotting her in the dark. “We’re down here!”

“Where?”

The back-and-forth went on for a while, but they were eventually rewarded with Shooting Star landing clumsily in the nest. “Tango was freaking out and running all over the place, it took me forever just to find this spot again…”

“Everyone’s freaking out,” Sunbeam said. “They’re all scared.”

“But we’re not scared of the moon.”

“Or the sun.” She looked up and regretted it immediately; even half-obscured, the sun hurt to look at. “The sun will be coming out again soon, I think. I wish everyone wasn’t so noisy about it… The darkness is kinda nice.”

“Yeah, it-” he cut himself off with a yelp. “Who is this? Are you the hatchling?”

“She is,” Sunbeam said. “She hatched at a special time, just like us.”

“Huh.”

She wasn’t sure if Shooting Star understood just how important this moment was. He thought they were only out on an adventure away from home, a fun day seeing the world beyond the roost. But he would find out soon enough.

#

Several minutes later, the moon fell out of the sun’s shape. Daylight returned as if it never left. The scattered parasaur herd slowly came back together.

The hatchling (who was already much larger than Sunbeam or Shooting Star) strutted around on her newborn hooves, still eerily silent, but eager and curious. Marvelously, her front half was brown and yellow, but her back half faded into a brilliant, deep blue. Caught between night and day, the sun and the moon.

“Breaking Dawn,” Sunbeam said. “That should be her name!”

Emmeline, resting near the edge of the nest, hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose she doesn’t have a parent to name her… But it’s up to her, too.”

“She likes it,” Sunbeam assured her. “Right, Breaking Dawn?”

The two-toned parasaur trotted up to Sunbeam and bonked her, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“See?”

Emmeline smiled, gently prodding them apart before Breaking Dawn could accidentally hurt her. “Breaking Dawn it is, then. Welcome to the herd, little one.”

“How come you got to name her?” Shooting Star pouted from Emmeline's back.

“You didn’t say anything!”