The little fox stepped into the meadow as the sun painted everything gold. Something zipped past his nose — a tiny green light, blinking on, blinking off. He froze, one paw lifted, ears swiveling forward.
The firefly darted up, down, in a wobbly zigzag. The little fox scrambled after it, paws skittering over fallen leaves and mossy stones.
He tumbled over a thick root and landed softly in a patch of clover. For a moment he lay still, then shook his fur and giggled, getting back on his paws.
The firefly landed on a fluffy white dandelion. Poof! The seeds burst into the air, swirling around the little fox like a miniature snowstorm.
He laughed and swatted at the floating seeds, sending them drifting away on the gentle breeze. The firefly glowed brighter, then darted toward the tall grass.
The little fox followed the glowing light through the swaying grass. His nose twitched — he smelled pine needles and something warm and familiar.
He ducked his head and squeezed through the last branches, stepping into the cool, dark entrance of his den.
His mother rose from her nest of soft moss and wrapped her paws around him in a snug hug. The little fox nuzzled into her fur, his tail curling around her leg. Outside, the firefly blinked once — then went dark.