Tiny had already begun her go-to-sleep routine when she heard the faintest tip-tip-tap behind the curtain. There it was again a little louder now, tip-tip-tap. Hovering at the window stood the brightest, most radiant of moths; it was her dear friend Luna, Mother-the-Moon’s favourite moth-child.  Her silken green wings gleamed in the darkness, and Tiny stood in awe of her grace.

“Tiny. . .” purred Luna, “Mother would like you to come for tea tomorrow. We’re welcoming the first of the wild strawberries. Can I tell her you will come?” Of course she would come! Tiny was delighted at the thought of holding Mother-the-Moon again.
“I will wait at the corner of peony and tuberose before moonrise tomorrow” she replied, vanishing into a brilliant flash of light.

Tiny spent the following day preparing for her visit. She picked a handful of moonflowers, and baked a sumptuous moon-pie. As twilight fell, Luna appeared from the shadows, and they followed the passing moonrise sailing high into the centre of the sky.

Mother-the-Moon was waiting, her loving arms ready for Tiny’s embrace. Her silvery glow illuminated the table, already set with a pot of steaming moon-tea and a bowl of ripe, juicy strawberries. Tiny was so brimming with joy, she imagined a watch of nightingales might slip through her chest and soar into the light.  The moon was full, the earth was alive, and food and friendship sat waiting.

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