Milo the fox stood at the edge of the deep forest. A silver glow shimmered between the trees. He stepped into the moss and walked on.
He climbed over mossy stones and ducked under low branches. Past a sleeping bluebird in the tall grass, he tiptoed on. Then — snap! He froze.
He pushed through vines and scrambled over a wet log. His belly caught on bark — he tugged free, shook leaves from his nose, and looked up.
Behind the old oak, something glowed — gold and green. A small hedgehog was curled tight among the roots, trembling. One eye peeked at him.
The hedgehog uncurled and scampered through the ferns. Milo trotted right behind, into a hidden clearing — and gasped.
Milo's mouth opened in a wide grin. He let out a happy little yip. The hedgehog bumped his shoulder and kept going.
Milo walked home beside the hedgehog. Their tails brushed the whole way, and the forest slept quietly around them.
The silver glow faded behind them. Milo knew the way home now, and he was not afraid anymore.
He remembered the hedgehog's trembling hands — no, paws — and the way it had uncurled just for him. He would come back tomorrow.
The next morning, Milo ran back to the old oak. The hedgehog was there, uncurled and waiting, nose twitching happily.
They explored the glowing clearing together, side by side, the hedgehog leading the way through tunnels of ferns and over tiny mossy hills.
Milo watched the hedgehog disappear into a burrow between two roots. Tomorrow, he thought, we will explore again. He walked home, tail high.