by Dan Haring
“Thanks,” Kyro said. He still hadn’t gotten used to this new side of his father. All he knew was that he wasn’t going to take it for granted for a second.
“It smells wonderful,” Andra said.
As they neared the kitchen, Cypher bounded over to greet them, tongue lolling and tail wagging happily. Kyro laughed and scratched the dog’s ears. Kyro and Andra quickly served themselves steaming casserole in bowls and then hurried up the stairs to the watchtower. Cypher followed them with a yap; he wanted casserole too.
Things had also changed for Kyro. Ever since the battle, he hadn’t needed his starglass goggles anymore. He could sense the stars and where they had fallen even before he could see them with his eyes. The star inside him always recognized its brothers and sisters. And sometimes he felt an odd tug inside his chest that threatened to send him wandering over the hills. He hadn’t given in to it yet, but he knew one day he would. He had the sneaking suspicion it might lead him to whatever that key was meant to unlock.
Tonight, Kyro and Andra sat in the watchtower chair together, and it slowly made its rounds while they ate their dinner. Just as they set aside their bowls, the darkening sky flashed and a single star fell to the earth. Kyro leaned forward, eager to see where it landed. When he looked back, Andra already had her starglass goggles on and a grin spreading over her face. The Council had made her an honorary Star Shepherd after the battle with the rogue giants, and she had prized her goggles ever since.
“Hurry up, Starboy. Or I’ll beat you to it.”
Kyro glanced up once more at the stars, letting their glow fill him in a new strange way. Then he and Cypher raced after Andra and the fallen star, heedless of the darkness.
The glow was a part of him now, and it never led him astray.
Acknowledgments
Dan Haring
This story has been a long time in the making. It began as an animated short film I started making way back in 2007. In 2011, it began its journey to becoming a book, and what you’re holding is the culmination of all that time. It would be impossible for me to remember to thank everyone who has helped and supported me and this story through the years, but I am truly grateful to all who have.
To my wife Kori, and our kids: You are the stars in my sky. I’m truly blessed to have your love and support.
To my agent, Kathleen Ortiz, who saw the potential in this story and who has worked tirelessly to help it become a reality. Without you this book would not exist. Thank you for believing in it and me.
To MarcyKate Connolly, who agreed to go on this journey with me and has been the best collaborator I could have asked for. I will forever be grateful for your love for Kyro and this story and the way you weaved your magic throughout it.
To Suzie Townsend, for being willing to share MarcyKate, as well as Joanna Volpe, Pouya Shahbazian, and the whole team at New Leaf Literary & Media.
To our editor, Annie Berger, as well as Jordan Kost and the entire team at Sourcebooks. Your insight and feedback were invaluable, and you pushed the story to new heights.
Special thanks to Mom and Dad, who have always supported me. Also to Tamlynn, Mikey, and Kristen for making growing up the awesome experience it was, and to their spouses for becoming part of our family. To my wife’s family, who have treated me as one of their own from the very first day, and to my cousins for their love and support.
To Goshen, for being a small enough town that my imagination had plenty of room to run wild.
To all the art and English teachers I’ve ever had, especially Mrs. White, Mrs. Bridges, Mrs. Burdick, and Mr. Bills. Thanks to Brent Adams, Kelly Loosli, Ryan Woodward, and friends from BYU Animation.
To Marni Hoopes and the Hoopes family, who have been supporters of this story since day one.
To the Novel Nineteens group for being such an amazing and supportive group of people. And a special shout-out to the MG authors, who are some of the best people I’ve ever met.
To D. Michael Hansen, for creating the beautiful music for the short film and being a great friend since junior high. And to Blake Johnson and Jacob Speirs for their help with the short film.
To Jakris Smittant, for letting me use your awesome name.
To my brothers at Strange Reptile, for letting me make cool new worlds every day.
To Blizzard, for being the model for Cypher.
To friends who gave feedback, ideas, and support: Cade and Amy Adams, Mike and Brit Murdock, Glenn and Kristen Harmon, Blake and Natasha Johnson, Brett and KT Shumway, Mike and Vanessa Hansen, Heather Dixon Wallwork, Dustin Hansen, Natalie Lloyd, Jennifer Rush, D.J. Kirkbride, Lea Hernandez Seidman, Phillip Sevy, Dan Naughton, Misty Bott, Mike Zahajko, Moroni Taylor, and the Carter, May, and Tavares families, and the rest of the Danbury tribe, everyone else who has supported me in this endeavor, and anyone I might have forgotten. I wish I could thank you each personally.
Thanks to the Bouncing Souls, Social Distortion, Chuck Ragan, Tiger Army, and the Menzingers, for being the soundtrack while I wrote and drew.
To Batman, because he’s awesome.
And finally, thank YOU for picking up this book and taking a chance on it.
MarcyKate Connolly
The Star Shepherd is a very special book, one I’m so grateful I’ve had the opportunity to be a part of. From the moment my agent pitched me the project, I’ve adored this story and these characters. So, first and foremost, thank you to Dan Haring for creating this storyworld and allowing me to be a part of it. And for bringing it to life with all his amazing illustrations too! (I cannot draw to save my life, so they seem like little miracles to me.)
This book wouldn’t have happened without our agents, Suzie Townsend and Kathleen Ortiz—thank you so much for your brilliant idea to pair us up for this book. And of course, the rest of the team at New Leaf, particularly Cassandra Baim, Pouya Shahbazian, and Sara Stricker.
So many thanks to the incredible folks at Sourcebooks! Extra special thanks to our fantastic editor, Annie Berger, and her editorial assistant, Sarah Kasman, and the rest of their small army behind the scenes for all their time and effort on this book—we are so lucky to work with you!
As always, thank you to my family for all your love, support, and understanding while I’ve seemingly been under near constant deadlines this past year. You make everything worth it.
And finally, thank you, readers. I hope you love this story as much as we do!
Chapter One
The first time my shadow spoke to me, I was a mere infant in the cradle. They say that on the night I was born, even the stars fled the sky and the moon hid under a dark cloak. That I was a quiet thing, with a shock of black hair and eyes like glittering onyx. I did not scream like other newborn children. And I did not reach for my mother like instinct should have instructed me.
Instead, I held out my tiny arms and smiled at the shadow in the corner of the room.
And it smiled back.
* * *
It’s my favorite sort of day: stormy. Rain pelts the mansion in a wild rhythm, and the shadows shiver between the trees outside my windows. Everything is cast in lovely shades of darkness.
Dar—my shadow—is restless beside me, pacing from one corner of the room to the other. Kendra is late, she says. We should play a game outside instead. Can’t you hear the shadows calling to us?
While the offer is tempting, I want to see Kendra today. At thirteen, she is a year older than me, and her mother is a maid. We play together sometimes, but I’ve barely seen her since she began working in our mansion a couple of months ago. Mother only allowed me to play with Kendra before she was a servant; now she says it isn’t proper to socialize with the help.
Except for Dar, I’ve never had many friends, and I miss having Kendra around. The Cerelia Comet blessed me with magic, and I was born with the talent of shadow weaving. When I was little, I kept myself entertained
by crafting toys from the shadows and playing with the one tethered to my feet. Dar is the only shadow that is my friend. To most people, shadows are things that remain stuck to walls and floors, but for me, they become whatever I wish—tacky, like clay, or as thin as smoke. I can mold them all to my will. Now that I’m older, my shadowcraft has improved. Before me on the low table in the sitting room is an array of shadows I’ve plucked from the corners of the mansion. A dark teapot steams next to three teacups and saucers. A smoky tray holds real biscuits—shadows don’t taste very good—and three carved wooden chairs wait for Kendra to arrive so we can all take our seats.
Mother is not aware that I invited Kendra to tea today. I do have other games I’d rather play with Dar and the shadows, but Kendra doesn’t seem to like them much. So tea it is.
Dar settles at my feet for a few moments before we hear a sound in the hallway. Hope warms me, but it is only one of the other servants walking by. I sink into a chair as disappointment swells inside my chest. Kendra is nearly half an hour late. I know she has duties, but she could have come by for a moment or at least sent a note explaining her absence.
Perhaps your mother kept her away, Dar suggests. She doesn’t like to have you playing with the help anymore.
“You’re probably right,” I scowl. My mother has no trouble keeping her servants busy. And she does her best to keep everyone away from me.
I sit up straighter. “Let’s bring Kendra a gift. It might be fun to sneak down to the servants’ quarters after dinner.”
Dar curves into a smile on the floor. Does this mean we can go outside now?
I laugh despite the strange heaviness weighing on me. The storm has nearly passed, and the sun is disappearing beyond the horizon. Even now, tiny specks of light flicker among the shadows on our lawn.
I pick up a jar from a nearby shelf, and Dar and I hurry outside before Mother can scold me for playing in the damp weather. The darkness deepens around us as we enter the woods by my home, the shadows cast by the trees reaching their limbs toward us in welcome. My feet begin to move, and I weave between the moss-covered trunks while Dar hums a tune. Together we dance in the gloaming, coaxing shadows and fireflies into the jar. By the time the jar is full, I am breathless from laughter, but not enough to forget the hollowness that blossomed when Kendra didn’t appear this afternoon.
“Emmeline!” My mother’s voice stops my feet in their tracks.
“We better hurry or we’ll be late for dinner.” I secure the lid on my jar. Dar sighs but follows, her shape angling toward the trees like she’d rather remain outdoors. When I close the door behind me, she is at my side again. Even if Mother does keep me from Kendra, I am never alone. I always have Dar to keep me company.
In the jar, the shadows swirl around tiny flitting dots of light. Kendra always liked pretty things, and these shadows are so lovely, I’m sure she’ll like them too. I hope Mother hasn’t been working her too hard. I slip the jar into a hidden pocket in my skirts.
“Emmeline!” Mother calls again.
“Coming,” I call back, and hasten toward the dining room.
* * *
After dinner, Dar and I pretend to head for my rooms; then, when Mother and Father aren’t looking, I cloak myself in shadows and we sneak down to the servants’ quarters. Kendra and her parents share a room, and I’ve visited her there once or twice before. She is probably tired from a hard day and forgot all about our tea.
But when Dar and I hover outside her door, ready to knock, I hear voices. My hand pauses inches away from the wooden slats. It is one of the older serving girls, and she and Kendra are laughing. A pang of jealousy shoots through me. Kendra has never laughed with me like that.
“Emmeline invited you to play tea? Even though she’s twelve years old?”
I flinch. It isn’t my fault we only play tea. Kendra refuses to play any other shadow games.
Kendra groans through the door, and I can picture her tossing her pale hair over her shoulders. “She’s crazy. Shadow weavers may be able to make things from shadows—which is bizarre enough—but they’re not supposed to be able to hear and talk to them too. None of the comet-blessed have more than one talent—everyone knows that. But she honestly believes her shadow is a living thing. She even talks to it and pretends it talks back. She’s insane!”
Heat flashes over my entire body. I brace myself with one hand against the door frame. Their tinkling laughter feels like glass striking my eardrums. Dar growls.
I may be the only one who can hear Dar, but that doesn’t mean I’m mad.
She isn’t worth our time, Emmeline. She has a cruel heart. All those times she played and made nice when she really thinks you’re crazy! Dar huffs. To them she is only a shadow stuck to the floors and walls, but to me she is so much more. We’re better off without her.
The other serving girl finds her voice again. “Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t go. You know what they say about what happened to that neighbor girl, Rose.”
Kendra’s laughter tapers off. “Emmeline is just crazy enough to be dangerous.”
My heart sinks all the way into the ground. I shift the jar of shadows in my hands, my palms suddenly slick, and the fireflies wink. The way the dark and light play off each other is beautiful, but I realize now that Kendra never would have appreciated this gift.
She didn’t say a word hinting at her true feelings when the three of us played with my shadow dolls and drank tea from teapots made of smoke. It was a game she only pretended to enjoy.
She was never my friend at all.
“You’re right, Dar.” I climb back up the stairs to my rooms, and the heat begins to vanish, until all I can feel is cold.
Later that night, while Dar comforts me in my quarters, running her cool fingers through my hair and brushing the tears from my cheeks, the fireflies’ lights go out. I curl into a ball on my bed and send the swirling shadows back to the woods, with a promise that from now on, I’ll only share them with those who will truly appreciate them.
About the Authors
Dan Haring is a visual effects and animation artist who has worked on films such as Tangled, The Lion King 3-D, The Incredible Hulk, and Rio 2. He is currently helping create new worlds in virtual reality at Strange Reptile. He loves comic books, especially Batman. He lives in Utah with his awesome wife and kids.
MarcyKate Connolly is a New York Times bestselling children’s book author who lives in New England with her family and a grumble of pugs. She graduated from Hampshire College (a magical place where they don’t give you grades) where she wrote an opera sequel to Hamlet as the equivalent of senior thesis. It was also there that she first fell in love with plotting and has been dreaming up new ways to make life difficult for her characters ever since. You can visit her online at marcykate.com.
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