"They used to say that if you looked and talked to them long enough, they would eventually come down and start to tell you all the things they had seen in their long, fascinating lives. Isn't that amazing?" The young boy, laying on the grass in the abandoned, overgrown field just stared contentedly up at the star studded sky. The paint on his cheeks was still smeared in the colourful patterns of his tribe. Turning his freckled face to the wrecked body of the scarecrow beside him, the boy blew out a breath as he realised that the stars would not e communicating through it with him today.
"Night Spirit. I'll be here tomorrow with more of the magicky stuff that Elder has, so it'll probably work then!" Patting the Spirit scarecrows shoulder, the boy slowly, reluctantly, turned his way back home.
The eyes of the scarecrow glittered in the frugal moonlight as the boy left. Communication would not happen tonight.