The Hill That Keeps the Light

Every evening, Mara climbed the hill to mend the stars. She carried no ladder, only a needle of silver and a pocketful of patience. When one came loose, she stitched it back into the dark, humming softly so the night would not notice its missing tooth. Years passed before she discovered the brightest star was never above her at all. It was the small, steady light she left behind for anyone still making their way home.