Mairin was a young desert fox who lived beneath a leaning saltbush where the sand stayed cool after sunset.

Her ears were almost too large for her narrow face, and they turned toward every whisper: beetle feet, falling grains, the far click of stones cooling under the moon.

More than anything, Mairin wanted to become a night pathfinder, the one trusted to lead travelers between dunes without losing a single pawprint.

But the older foxes said she listened to too many things at once and forgot the trail beneath her nose. On the night the stars looked freshly washed, Mairin heard a lullaby humming from a dune that everyone else called silent. The song was so soft that it felt less like sound and more like warm light under the sand.