Dusk painted the sky purple. Alice heard rustling beneath the rhubarb leaves.
She pushed aside the big green fronds and found a tiny kiwi bird shivering. Alice crouched down and held out her hands.
The kiwi let out a soft wet click. Alice wrapped a leaf around it like a blanket and carried it toward her cottage.
Inside, she set a bowl of water and a pile of worms near the fireplace. The kiwi ate slowly, its breathing steadying.
Alice packed her satchel — a flashlight, an extra leaf blanket, and a piece of bread. She stepped back outside with the kiwi tucked in her hoodie pocket.
Along the path, a possum dropped from a tree and scampered alongside them. Two tui birds swooped down and landed on low branches, watching.
Her shoes clicked against the stepping stones. The possum chattered. The tui birds tilted their heads and listened.
They reached the forest edge, but the little kiwi had stopped moving entirely. Its beak pointed toward the dark ferns beyond.
A soft echoing call rippled through the trees, and another answered. Alice switched on her flashlight, and three pairs of bright yellow eyes blinked back from between the silver birch branches.
The little kiwi went perfectly still, then let out the loudest happiest click Alice had ever heard.
Alice stepped forward slowly, her hands open. She whispered, 'You're home now.' The little kiwi hopped onto the moss and waddled three quick steps into the ferns.
It returned, followed by a mother kiwi and a father kiwi. They nudged their baby with gentle beak strokes. The possum curled against Alice's ankle, and the tui birds trilled a song that sounded like thank you.