The sun warmed the village market. Fafa wandered between stalls, ears perked.
Behind a crate of oranges, something golden blinked. Fafa reached out — a letter Faa hopped right into her paw.
Fafa trotted to Mr. Rabbit's stall. She traced the Faa in the dust. The letters tumbled and scattered. 'Oh!' she whispered.
She picked them up one by one and tried again. This time they held, just long enough for her to giggle.
Next came Mrs. Cat's flower stand. Fafa pressed the Faa onto the wooden sign. The curves lit up and floated! She bounced happily.
At the fruit cart, a big basket of figs had spilled its labels. Fafa pressed the Faa against each crate. With every label, a fig winks and rolled toward the basket.
'فاكهة!' she announced. The word meant fruit. Fafa's tail swished with pride.
That evening, Fafa sat on her doorstep. She drew the Faa in chalk over and over on the stone step.
The last letter glowed softly, then went still. Fafa smiled and traced it one more time.
Fafa curled up on her doormat, paw tucked beneath her chin. The village slept peacefully around her.
In her dreams, the golden Faa drifted through the starry sky like a tiny bright boat.
Goodnight, Fafa. Goodnight, little fox.