I have not seen many days yet, but I believe that the days of autumn must be the best. There is so little time between sunset and sunrise, my favorite times of the day. It is my favorite because the sky is painted in gold and red, like me. Mother tells me that I am day, bright and beautiful. It is another way we are different, because she is night, black and covered in stars. Things that are different are interesting, I have found. They seem to play off each other, like fire and shadow do, showing the bits and pieces of the world we couldn't see normally.

Today has been different, and it has shown me a new part of the world. I am on an adventure in the tall tall grass, and Natraj trots beside me on stout black legs, a tiny shadow that barely keeps pace with my childish walk and slips between thick thistle stalks. It is our first trip away from the place where we were born, and I have already found that things are different here than they are at home. The meadow is full of bushy thistles that I have never seen on the edge of the world, and when they are not hitting me in the face they are very appealing. We found a great body of water that stretches almost as far as I can see, and as the sun drifted to the western horizon we walk beside it, wondering if it will ever end.

The tall thistles hide most of the world from my view, but I can hear voices coming from my left, grown-up voices that speak with the same soft coo they use to address me. Natraj looks up at me with gold eyes; he knows as well as I do that there could be something to learn here, something new to see, and of course we cannot pass up an opportunity like that. So rustle towards a tall red oak, fire and shadow among the swaying stalks, unperturbed by the mass of adults gathered around this area of interest.

The air smells of blood. I know the scent of blood because when Kali hunts for Natraj, that is the smell she brings back with her. The adults are gathered around the source of blood, and do not seem to notice me as I come up behind them, rising only to the shortest's shoulder. There are many of them, three, just like Natraj's tails, and all are different and only one smells like home. There is one with a horn, one without, and is a great winged creature who looks like the stars and reminds me of mother, spilling light from her excess appendages. Beautiful; I have never seen light like this before. I may have a new favorite time, though - the time when this is in the sky.

Natraj is not so distracted. He whines at me and draws my attention to the fallen creature they are fixated on, black form weaving between long limbs to reach the side of the creature who is even smaller than I. Where is its mother? Mine would never leave me if I was hurt like this, I think. Mothers are not supposed to leave their children. Mothers do not leave their children. Something must have happened to the mother, and that is sad. What if something happened to my mother? Would I be alone, hurt and abandoned and surrounded by strangers? No, not alone, never alone, because I have Natraj.

Is that why Mother gave me Natraj? So I would never be alone? Natraj is at the side of the fallen animal now, and I slip between the adults on golden socks, pursuing my tiny friend and coming up close to the other child. The kitsune looks at the bleeding wound with great golden eyes, confused - is this friend or food? "Friend," I breathe quietly to him from beneath the steady hum of speech and life, and he nods and steps forward, pressing miniscule black paws against the creature's right flank and looking up curiously at him. Natraj will clean the cut, and I will be the child's friend, because we have to stay together when we are young. I will take it home to Mother and Mother will care for it like she does for me. It will be my friend, just as Natraj is, and it will never be alone. The grown-ups can find a way to heal it, I know. It will be alright.