As Skellington lifted his gaze, he saw that the children were all cozied up in their bedrolls. Greta was drooling with her mouth open while snuggling Sniffy. Noah was snoring the loudest, his little brother in the fetal position, clutching the fur of the bedroll. It seemed they had all fallen asleep. Skellington’s eyes dimmed before returning to their usual brightness. He looked at the children with deep fondness. It was only because of them that he had learned so much about humanity, and now, even about himself. Despite the difficulties of taking care of those three, he had enjoyed every second of it.
He peered out of the window on the opposite side of the cabin, trying to see the stars. Instead, a single, coal-black moth fluttered by, landing on the windowsill. Its wings opened and closed, displaying their pitch-black shade. It crawled around a moment before flying right back where it came from. So gently it came and went; a sign, or warning perhaps? Skellington had seen them only once before, centuries ago. As much as he tried to remember, the meaning of those black wings was like a ghost in the night. Whatever it may have been, it did not matter right now. As for the question of who he was, well… Nothing was set in stone yet, and there was surely a lot more to come. What he did know about himself was that now, he was a parent, and his name?… His name was Skellington.
The World Stones 