Barnaby stood at the mouth of his burrow. He looked into the black garden and slammed the door with a loud thud.
Behind the door, he curled into a tight, prickly ball. He waited for morning, listening to the wind rattle the dry twigs outside.
A soft yellow light flickered against the wood. Then came a gentle humming sound, tapping-tap-tapping right against his shell.
Barnaby peeked out one eye. Through the crack, he saw glowing dots drifting through the tall grass like tiny lanterns.
He stepped onto the moss and reached out a paw. A firefly landed on his nose and buzzed happily.
Barnaby walked through the lit path. The friendly lights followed him, and he decided the dark garden was quite bright.
He turned back to look at his burrow. The door was no longer scary, just a cozy home waiting for him.
Barnaby curled up on his leaf bed. He listened to the crickets sing, and slept soundly until dawn.