Sunset poured violet across the woodland meadow. Glowby dove beneath the curled edge of a broad leaf and pulled the leafy flap shut. Outside, grasses whispered while the last gold light slipped away.
A tiny moth fluttered past, bumped into a fern, and cried, “Is anyone there? I can’t find my way!” The silver fronds trembled around the lonely question. Beneath the leaf, Glowby listened.
Glowby peeked out and lifted one glowing wing. A night breeze rattled the grass; beside the silver fern, the moth’s wings trembled. “Follow my light,” Glowby whispered, then darted into the dark.
Between moonlit clover and tall shadows, Glowby led the way. An owl hooted. A beetle snapped a twig. Each time the glow flickered, the moth called, “There you are!” and the little light shone brighter.
The moth called again, “There you are!” Glowby’s light blinked once, then vanished behind a blade of grass. For one quiet moment, the moth hovered alone. Then a brighter glow appeared farther ahead.
A cloud covered the moon. The meadow disappeared into velvet darkness, and Glowby’s tiny light became the only light nearby. Glowby rose higher, higher, until stars scattered open above the grass.
Below, fireflies blinked from the grass—one, two, three—like a hidden audience. The moth lifted its wings toward the starry sky. Glowby answered with a bright, steady flash, and the meadow began to sparkle.
At last, Glowby guided the moth to a warm patch of flowers. The moth spun a joyful loop above the blossoms, and fireflies blinked along like music. Petals nodded beneath the gentle whirl of wings.
