Arjun kicked pebbles along the path past the blueberry patch. He pushed farther than ever before, past every hill he knew.
His shoes scuffed the dirt as he went. Something was waiting out there — he just knew it.
A wall of thick green bushes blocked the trail. Arjun squeezed through a narrow gap, branches tickling his arms.
He stepped into a circle of ancient trees and froze. The air smelled sweet — warm honey and damp earth.
Arjun crouched down and waited. One firefly appeared — then two — then a dozen, all glowing gold.
They drifted past his nose and buzzed against his cheeks. One landed on his finger — he giggled.
He tried to catch one but it zipped away like a tiny spark. The others swirled faster, brighter.
Arjun stood on tiptoe, reaching up as they circled him like a golden storm.
One landed right on his nose. He held his breath and blinked slowly.
The last firefly hovered above his head, painting the leaves gold. He whispered, "I found you."
The grove hummed back with a soft rustle. Tomorrow, he would come back. And the day after that too.
He knew this place would wait for him. It always does.