It was a cool autumn night, and Stitches had just been granted the evening out of night chores around Hengstacer. This would be the first of many nights over the next two years that he would repeat this ritual. His amnesiac mind still curious, on this evening, with nothing to do and nowhere to go, he found himself atop a hill south of Hengstacer, trees behind him, field below, and nothing but the stars glistening above. As he began to count the ones he could see peaking over the top of the canopies in the distant and speckled forest. As he counted them quietly with his silent lips, saying no words, he leaned back slowly to count the rest until he was flat on his back. However, after nine, he just made paced noises as though counting, not knowing what he was counting for or what came after.
As his head hits the grass and the straw hat flops belly up awkwardly beneath his golden hair, he tilts his head at the balls of light above and muses for a moment in curiosity. As he observes a patch of stars, he rubs his tired eyes, swearing he could connect the dots in the sky to provide unto him a face. The feminine face within the astral heavens smiles down at him and her lifelike outlined face gives him a silent wink in his exhausted delusion. Stitches of course, believes this to be true, and sits up, stammering as his hands fly instinctively to his mouth to cover his tattoo on his lips and cheeks. When the lady in the stars does not scold, shame, or reel in disgust, he leans forward to prop himself on his arms instead as he gazes up in wonder and offers his name to her, "Stitches..."
The lady smiles but says nothing. From then on, even in her mute demeanor, the hours she didn't move in the night, and the occasions she did, she would be there on the hill to listen to him speak to her, and speak often he did.
