There was nothing a night enjoys more than to frighten and scare. Once it crept down to the treetops, pushing down on the last robes of light along the horizon, it cooled its anticipation and settled in for its shift.
Sometimes the day left behind remnants of turmoil and pain. People cried into their pillows, they screamed in hurt that cut open their hearts. Turmoil and troubles left to the sweet drug of sleep.
If it was in a very good frame of mind it would relax, twiddle a cloud going by, shift around its direction to bring in a soft warming breeze or a much needed mist of fine rain. Mostly it moved its moon in a great rounding arc and thought about things.