I stare at the night sky. Here in the South Pole, the stars are always visible and twinkling. “Slate! Get over here!” Dorian squawks. “No thanks!” I answer. “You’re going to freeze to death! Come inside.” Dorian says. “I’m a penguin. I’ll be fine. I’ll come inside once I’m ready.” I say. Dorian huffs, but turns and waddles back inside the cave where the rest of the penguins are. Even though I see all these stars every night, they never fail to amaze me. I can always count on them when I can’t count on anything else. "Slate. Come on in. You need your sleep." my mother, Iceberg, says gently. She understands my fascination with the stars; she had the same fascination when she was my age, according to Gram. Reluctantly, I get up from the slab of ice I was sitting on and go inside the cave, stealing one last glance at the stars before I was pushed to the back, where the rest of the not-yet fully grown penguins are.
all me bg on canva
