The trees were old and whispery here. Aidan pushed the moss aside. Something golden glowed in the dark soil.
He scooped it up. It pulsed warm against his palm, like holding a sunbeam. The glow dimmed when he covered it.
Aidan carried the egg through the dusk. He set it on his bedroom windowsill just as the first star appeared. Moonlight poured across the floor like a silver ladder.
Aidan placed the egg inside an old shoebox lined with clover leaves. A curious mouse nosed the box. He tapped the wood gently. The mouse froze, then scurried off. The egg began to crack.
Clover rustled. The egg cracked again — a thin line of light slipped through the shell. Aidan held his breath.
A tiny creature unfolded from the shell. Its wings shimmered like stained glass. It hovered for a moment, then bowed low.
'One wish before sunrise,' it whispered. Aidan opened his mouth. No sound came out. He thought — what should I ask for?
Aidan stepped forward. He held out his pinky finger. The creature landed, light as a dandelion seed.
Aidan stroked its wing. 'Stay,' he breathed. The creature chirped and curled into a ball.
Dawn painted the sky peach. Aidan fell asleep with a golden dream beside him.
Morning light filled the room. The eggshell lay empty on the windowsill. Aidan smiled in his sleep.
When Aidan opened his eyes, the windowsill was empty. But on his pillow, a single iridescent feather remained.