Milo hops through the sleeping woods. A tiny flickering light glows by the old oak root.
He crouches close and sees a star no bigger than his paw. It is dim and sighing. He knows he must help it back up.
Milo carries the star toward the tallest hill. A thick bramble blocks the path. The star lets out a soft whimper as thorns snag his fur.
Milo tugs free and shakes his ruffled coat. He turns back toward the woods.
Milo returns with a long willow stick. He hooks the bramble and pulls—snap! The star brightens and hums a happy little tune.
The hill gets steeper. Milo's paws slip on loose stones, but he keeps climbing.
At the summit, Milo sets the star on a flat rock, but it only trembles. He climbs onto a boulder and whispers, "You can do it."
The star blazes gold—WHOOSH!—and zips upward, trailing sparkles like warm snow. It twinkles steadily among the others now.
Milo lies on his back with a dandelion fluff stuck to his nose. A single sparkle drifts down and lands in his open palm, glowing softly.
Milo smiles, curls his fingers gently around the sparkle, and falls asleep under the sky he helped mend.