Tonight's output (half of)

 "Happiness is contagious," Reynard murmured. "But there is no magic in all the world to force someone to be happy. You can only gain happiness by giving it away; you gain bitterness by expecting it in return."

      "Do you want some? Never mind," Boy added as the fox raised his head from the earth to regard him in bemusement. "You'll just tell me you're a fox."

      "But I am a fox." The fox smiled as Boy rolled his eyes. "And I am content, Boy. To wish for more than is enough of anything – even of happiness – is to risk disaster."

      "Two mice are enough for me now, but if I was bigger I would want more," Boy said, his grin flattering as Reynard Fox's smile vanished, snapped shut as though it had never been.

      "You could be content with two," the other said, in a tone that caused the fire Boy had made to dim. "The world does not have enough mice for everyone who can have three to take them."

      Boy bit his lip. "I can't make jokes, can I? I try. but all I seem to do is hurt people."

      "I am old, Boy. I have lived through famines and stolen the larders of kings for their people, bargained with the Sun to end droughts and trapped the Moon herself in water."

      Boy opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it.

      "Boy," Reynard said, resigned.

      "The moon does get reflected in water? I've seen it, and I think there are songs about that where I'm from. How do you trap the moon?"

      "If you hold a mirror to a reflection, you can trap the real thing. It was long ago, when the Moon and Sun argued over power and place, when night and day warred for the land and drew boundaries that seared the sky and charred the oceans. The time came when the Moon had made a trap of stars and song for the Sun, and the Sun – older and perhaps wiser – refused to set. Heat baked the world, searing fields and throats. Entire lands were lost to the Sun, earth turned into desert, sand into glass and mountains melted into lakes.

      "I was known to have the ear of the Moon and spoke, asking her to relent. She refused. She justified it well; I told her all were excuses and she scowled and threw rocks at me for my insult. I escaped to fashion one into a mirror with the help of the folk under the hills and took it up into the night of the dark half of the world, now still and empty without the Sun. The Mon shone across a wide lake and I held up the mirror. The mirror became reflection and the water became the Moon.

      The Sun set, finally, the trap falling apart without the Moon to sing it true. Each night I allowed the Moon to rise, each day I trapped her until finally I broke the mirror once the world had healed. I made no promise not to trap her again, the Moon made no promise not to trap the Sun. We remain friends, though not as we were."
       "You tricked the moon," Boy said, and a lesser fox would have taken his shock as disbelief.

      "I betrayed her. She had betrayed the world first. Friendship is a gift, Boy. And any gift one cannot give up is a trap."

      "That seems really sad."

      "It is the way it was," the fox said in turn, and Boy said nothing at all because he could hear old sorrow under the words and the moon seemed brighter in the sky than it had even an hour ago.