Mimi cups the tiny seed in both paws and presses it into the dark, crumbly dirt between the wildflowers.
She looks up. "Big as the sky," she whispers. Golden light flickers across her long ears.
Mimi tips the little watering can. The soil drinks, and drinks.
She sits on her haunches. Tap. Tap. Tap. Her nose meets the dirt. Nothing stirs.
Afternoon after afternoon, Mimi brings the water again. The patch stays just dirt.
One soft purple petal drifts down and lands on the spot. Mimi nudges it aside with her toe.
Mimi is halfway back to the burrow when something cracks. Crck.
A slender green shoot splits the earth, pushing up like a tiny green thumb. Her mouth falls open.
Mimi kneels, front paws flat against the cool ground. "Hey," she says. The sprout tilts toward the sun.
The shoot wiggles. Just a little.
