Young Fredle - Louise Yates [48]
“You better believe it,” said Rad.
“—but Rasta was seven times as brave as any other raccoon has ever been. So when the moon came shining down the way he liked to in those days, so bright you had to shut your eyes tight not to be blinded by him, Rasta was waiting. The moon sank his great belly down into the cool lake and Rasta grabbed onto that fat white moon with one paw.”
Rilf demonstrated this by holding one arm out to the side.
“With the other”—Rilf gestured with his other arm, acting out the story—“he tore into him, as if the moon was no more than just any old fish or other food. Rasta tore off bits and pieces of that moon, and he tossed them aside, up into the air.”
“And those are the moonbits,” Rimble announced to Fredle, “and that’s why there are so many of them. So now you know.”
“Let Cap’n finish,” Rad said.
“I was only saying,” Rimble complained.
Rilf raised his voice over this quarreling. “The moon tried to get free. He twisted and turned, rolled backward and forward, but Rasta held him tight. The moon tried to escape the paw that was shredding him to bits, and the claw that was holding him; he howled and he cursed, but Rasta didn’t let go. It was hard work, long work, but Rasta kept at it, for seven nights and seven days, too. He didn’t rest, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat. And gradually, slowly, the moon weakened, and shrank, and got pale.”
“What about all the other moons?” asked Fredle. “The ones that aren’t full moons? Why didn’t they come to save him?”
“There’s only ever been one moon, young Fredle,” Rilf told him.
Fredle wasn’t so sure about that. He wasn’t sure about anything he was being told, but he didn’t say so to the raccoons. He wasn’t about to say to them, Don’t try to fool me about moons, I’ve seen them. Whatever he said now needed to have only one purpose: to find out when the full moon was going to come out in the sky, so he could know how much time he had. “Then what happened?” he asked.
“Then that moon started begging Rasta to stop. ‘What’ll you do for light without me?’ he asked, but Rasta didn’t answer. ‘All I wanted to do was grow,’ he said, but Rasta said not a word, just kept taking off moonbits and tossing them off into the darkness. Until at last the moon said, ‘All right, I give up, I’ll stop.’
“By then, he was no bigger than he’d been to start out. ‘Promise,’ said Rasta, and ‘I promise,’ the moon said. But Rasta knew what a liar and trickster that moon was. Do you know what he did then?”
“Kept on ripping pieces off?” Fredle guessed.
“Nope.”
“Tied a string to him so he couldn’t get away?”
“Nope.”
Fredle thought. “Climbed onto him and stayed there, ready to attack again?”
“Nope and nope,” Rilf said. “Rasta was smarter than that, and way smarter than you, smarter than even me. Rasta figured that if the moon liked growing, that was the way to make his promise stick. He told the moon that in order for Rasta, and all raccoons in all the time to come, to be sure the moon was keeping his promise, the moon would have to grow smaller first, and after that he could grow bigger again, but then he’d have to grow smaller again so he could grow bigger, over and over. As long as the moon did that, he could have the sky safe to himself. Which is what the moon has done, ever since. Raccoons know there’s only one moon, because we keep an eye on him. We’d know if another moon showed up, to start making trouble again. The moon watches us, too, hoping we’ll forget, or get bored and go away somewhere else. We’re the ones that keep him where he belongs. If he didn’t see us watching, ready to call up Rasta to turn him into nothing but moonbits forever, I don’t know what that moon might get up to.”
“Is Rasta still alive?” asked Fredle, curious despite not believing that the story could be true.
“The moon is growing now,” Rimble announced. “He’s about half-size, at least. Wouldn’t you say half-size, Cap’n? So when do we leave for the lake?” He turned to Fredle. “It takes three nights’ heavy traveling to get there.”
“Maybe tomorrow, maybe the night after,” Rilf said. “It won’t be long. I