1. The Star in the Dark

The next rocket took off, blotting out the last remaining stars in the sky. It hung precisely in front of the rare sunrays that still dared travel through the blackened air.

Because of that, two whistling hares could no longer find their food.

“I can’t wait until all those humans are gone,” cried Pika. “Nasty creatures who think they’re better than us.”

She stood on her broad hind legs and pointed two brown front paws at the sky. “Yes! Leave then! With your silly steel tubes of fire!”

“Save your energy,” said Prince. His fur was more gray than brown, though just as invisible in the endless darkness. Their short round ears and tiny limbs meant many mistook them for mice, until drawing near and finding the hares much bigger.

They sprinted through the dark. They relied on hearing, for sight only worked near places where humans had left lamps, or yet another forest fire raged. The ground was dry, hard and cracked, littered with dead plants. With each plane taking off, each satellite and especially each rocket, the open air choked and the sun was shut out.

Without sunlight, no plant could live. Without plants, a whistling hare could not live. And without running hard all day and hoping even harder, they would not survive much longer.

Only a few flower species braved the darkness. Especially around Aprania, fluffy dandelions had long sustained the hares. The rest of the world, however, looked like the Scorched Plains of Kran—and even those seemed more peaceful under the then-blue sky.

Pika skidded to a halt again, eyeing the just-fired rocket, illuminated by its own fireball and deafening roar.

“Look! They even draw silly pictures on the outside of their steel tubes. Unnecessary!”

Prince brushed past her, nudging her head. “Dear, we haven’t found a morsel in three days. My belly rumbles like there’s a thunderstorm within. Let those humans be.”

Her stomach grumbled in reply.

“But,” she said softly, “everything will get better once they disappear. We’ve been running for years under this blackened sky and it’s their fault!”

Prince could barely see his partner’s eyes, but felt her paw against his.

“How much longer can we keep this up?” she said. “How long can we endure if nothing changes?”

“As long as it takes,” said Prince through clenched teeth. “We can always go farther north, there—”

“We can’t even see which way is north!”

The rocket was now far above, a small second sun—if the first sun were still visible. Each day now held only night, hovered at the same permanent temperature, and the longer humans pumped gases into the atmosphere, the hotter it grew.

Prince still remembered when this place held sheets of ice. When he had to huddle against his partner in their burrow because of the bitter cold. Now he puffed in the heat, barely growing any fur.

“I feel the air already cooling. We’re going the right way.”

“We can’t outrun the destruction humans bring,” Pika grumbled.

Lacking a choice in the matter, however, they ran on. They had no rocket for finding a new planet. They had only the black-gray mist around them, good hearing, and, if the stench of dead life and human waste wasn’t so strong, a good nose too.

“We’ll reach the Iceplates,” Prince asserted confidently. “And there our children will have a beautiful future.”

“The plates are gone, I’m sure of it. Thanks to those humans who—”

“The world also thought all the gods had vanished. But look what actually proved true!”

His throat felt as dry as the cracked earth, and as painful too. The many fish skeletons betrayed that a sea once lay here. Pika said Gulvi, god of water, had lived here. Of course, just when they needed him, he was nowhere to be seen. Well, Prince thought wryly, if all the water vanishes, a water god can’t exactly do his job, can he?

“Do you think Gulvi still wanders around here?” he asked, running, his voice hoarse. “He must be able to help us.”

Pika laughed and made a whistling sound between her teeth. Prince had always found her laugh endearing, but now he felt belittled.

“What’s he to do here? Wriggle forward like a beached dolphin? He probably rose to the clouds, together with all the water.”

It had been months since it last rained. A heavy rainstorm had to come any day, lasting weeks on end. Prince took the steadily swelling wind as an encouraging sign.

Then he saw it.

A star in the darkness. Sunrays shone on a small tree, ringed by tall grass blades. The gleam on the ground betrayed a puddle of water.

Pika and Prince exchanged glances. She whistled and raced with him toward the star. He yearned to feel grass under his paws again. His body shook and screamed for water.

But he held back and nudged Pika behind his round tail.

“What?” she shrieked.

“Donte’s rule,” he whispered.

Pika shook her whiskers. “Oh come on, you really think anything’s still alive? That a hungry tiger waits weeks in the stifling shade for prey to step into the sun? We’re not waiting like … like … scared bunnies.”

“Every animal thinks like us. Always seeking the next star, because that’s the only place with food. So yes, it could—”

Pika hopped around him and dashed on ahead.

“Stop!”

She didn’t listen. That was why he’d fallen for her. Not because she never listened, of course, but because she always fully embraced her nature. She felt such pure joy upon seeing grass, chewing a tasty leaf, feeling the sun’s rays.

Joy that made her bound ahead before Prince could keep up. After each other, they raced toward the star, licking their teeth.

And they saw the star vanish.

Prince looked up in alarm. The rocket now stood high in the sky, blocking the sunlight. It’ll be gone soon, he thought, everything will be fine.

The hares rolled to a stop against the tree. Pika leapt between the towering blades of grass. Prince’s belly rapidly heaved up and down with each panting breath. He looked around, but his partner was right: no predator emerged to devour them.

“See? Easy as carrot cake.”

Prince didn’t hear her last words, for the sky glowed red and all sound was drowned out by something louder.

The rocket exploded overhead.

Pika nibbled as many plant stalks as she could. Prince nudged her until she turned and fled with him.

Great shards of metal tumbled down, accompanied by flames. Every second, a new crater formed, ripping the earth further apart. At last they had light, but it revealed something they wished stayed in the sky.

A jagged, misshapen chunk of metal fell upon their star, crushing everything. Pika let out a startled whistle. Prince instinctively put his paw before her eyes.

They watched as if turned to stone.

The cheerful picture on the side of the rocket, showing an astronaut grinning with thumb upraised, melted away in the explosion’s searing heat.