Of Beast and Beauty by Stacey Jay

family’s hut and lie down in the grass beneath the star. They would talk late into the night, telling each other their secret hopes and dreams, their messages carried between land and sky by the west wind.
     
    “The girl told the star how she wished to journey beyond her tribe’s lands and see things no Desert Girl had ever seen before. The star told the girl how he yearned for someone with arms brave enough to hold him, strong enough to wrap around him at the close of the day and hold on until morning.
     
    “Eventually, the two grew so filled with longing that the star’s wish was granted. The girl opened her arms and called him from the sky, and with a sigh, he fell, burning a trail through the night as his flame went out, leaving only his bone-white body behind.”
     
    I drop my chin to my knees and close my eyes, suddenly feeling shy of this story.
     
    It’s a love story. Gem has never told me a love story. It feels more intimate than his other tales. Sadder, too. I haven’t imagined the Monstrous loving the way we love, but I suppose they must. It makes me wonder if there is someone Gem left behind, a Monstrous girl whose arms he imagines holding him until morning.…
     
    “The next morning, the girl awoke to find the star weeping in the grass,” Gem continues. “He had already grown tired of the girl’s arms. He craved the eyes of every creature of this world and the next and the next.
    He mourned the loss of his spark and shine and the glory of burning brighter than anything else in the night. He cursed the girl, blaming her for his fall, and left her so he could find his way back to the sky, abandoning her long before the girl’s belly began to round with the new star he had put inside her.”
     
    I blush so hard, my cheeks tingle. Heat spreads from my face, down my neck, to make my skin itch beneath my clothes. The new star he had put inside her . By the moons. Yuan’s storytellers would never say such a bold thing. If Needle were here, she’d be scandalized.
     
    The knowledge makes the story a bit more delicious.
     
    “Months passed, and the time came for the baby to be born. It was a
    cold night, near the end of winter, and both of the tribe’s midwives came to the girl’s hut, but the girl could not be saved,” Gem says. “After hours of suffering, the star baby came from her in a rush of fire, killing his mother as he shot toward the sky.”
     
    I lift my head, lips parting in silent protest. Surely this can’t be the end of the story, the poor girl dying in childbirth?
     
    “The west wind saw the tragic birth,” Gem continues, “and wished he had never carried the girl’s whispers to the star father. He plucked the girl’s soul from her burning flesh and held her in his arms, offering her a breath of his own magic to prove how sorry he was for the part he’d played. The girl used the magic to steal the language of our people from the stars, ensuring that no other Desert Girl would hear a star’s false promises or fall in love with one of the fickle creatures ever again.
     
    “But still, the west wind felt his debt had not been paid. And so, from that day forward, he has continued to share his magic. He still comes to the Desert People as their funeral fires burn, granting each of us one last wish.
    And that is how we were given death magic, and why our deaths are cause for celebration as well as sadness.”
     
    He falls silent, but the air still hums with the power of the legend.
     
    “ That is a happy story?” I ask after an outraged moment.
     
    “It is,” he says, a hint of laughter in his voice. “One of our happiest.”
     
    “You’re mad!” I protest. “That poor girl. And whatever happened to the star?”
     
    “He became the star of the true north,” Gem says. “And, in honor of his mother, he has guided the lost home to the tribal lands for hundreds of years.”
     
    “No. I meant the other star, the one who left the girl alone to die.”
     
    “He